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y/EMY SS' ACTING DRAMA. 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT: 



A TOTALLY ORIGINAIi AND PICTUBESQCJE 



\xnmK 



LIFE AND LOVE IN THESE TIMES, 



Z^ Ji^7 VB ^ C TS. 



By AUGUSTIN DALY, 

kXm.<>R OF ' LEAH THE FORSAKEN," " GRIPFITU GAUNT," " TAKINO A 
BUTTERFLY," ETC., ETC. 



AS ORIGINALLY PLAYED AT THE NEW YORK THEATER IN THS 
MONTHS OF AUGUST, SEPT. AND OCT., 1867. 



AUTHOR'S EDITION 



';^^G 




IJNDEB THE GASLIGHT. 



ACT I. 

SCENE 1st. — Parlor at the Courtlands ; deep windoio at hack 
shoicing snoicy exterior ; street lamp lighted ; time, 
night; the place elegantly furnished ; chandelier. 

Ray Trafford ia discovered lounging on tete-a- 
tete (c.) Pearl is at (l.) door taking leave oj 
Demilt, Windel, IMus. Van Dam, and Sue 
Earlie, who are all dressed and muffled to go out. 

Mrs. V. Good night ! of course we'll see you on Tuesday 

Pearl. To be sure you will. 

Demilt. Never spent a jollier hour. Good night, Ray. 

Ray. {On sofa) Good night. 

Mrs V. You won't forget the Sociable on Tuesday, Ray ? 

Bay. 0, I won't forget. 

All. {At door.) Good night — good night ! [Exit. L. 

Pearl. Good night. {Coming forward.) O, dear! now they're 
gone, and the holiday's gone with them. {Ooes to window.) There 
they go. {Laughter icithout.) Ray, do come and look at the Van 
Dam's new sleigh. How they have come out. 

Ray. Yes, it's the gayest thing in the Park ! 

Pearl. {Still at icindow c.) I wonder where they got the money , 
I thought you said Van Dam had failed ! 

Ray. Well, yes. He failed to pay, but he continues to spend. 

Pearl. {As if to those outside). Good night ! {Response from 
without as sleigh hells jingle — " Oood night.") I wish I was in there 
with you. It's delightful for a sleigh ride, if it wasn't New Year's. 
O ! there's Demilt over ! {Laughter outside — cracking of ichips — 
Ray saunters up to toindow. Sleigh bells jingle, sleigh music heard 
to die away. Ray and Pearl wave their handkerchiefs. Ray come» 
dozen and sits, c.) 

Pearl. {Closing lace curtains.) Isn't it a frightful thing to be 
shut up here on such a beautiful night, and New Year's ot all 
others. Pshaw ? we've had nothing but mopes all day. 0, dear ! 
I hate mourning, though it does become me, and I hate everything 
but fun, larks and dancing. {Comes doion). 

Ray. Where in the world is Laura? 

Pearl. O ! do forget her for a second, can't you ? She'll be here 

Eresently. You're not in the house a minute but it's, " Where'a 
,aura ? " " Why don't Laura come ? " 
Ray ( Ta^-ing her hand.) Well, if anybody in the world couli . 



4 tnSTDER IHE GASLIGHT. 

make me forget lier, It would be you. But If you had a lovei, 
wouldu't, you like liim to be as constant as that ? 

Pearl. That's quite another thing. 

Ray. But this doesn't answer my question — Where is she? 

Pcas'l. I sent for her as soon as I saw you coming. She baa 
hardly been down here a moment all this evening. O, dear ! Now 
don't you think I'm a victim, to be cooped up in this way instead of 
receiving calls as we used to ? 

Ray. You forget that your motber died only last summer. 
{Risiyig.) 

Pearl No, I don't forget. Psbaw ! You're just like Laura. 
She's only my cousin, and yet sLe keeps always saying — " Poor 
aunt Mary ! let us not forget how she would have sorrowed for us." 

Ray. {Going toicards back). y^'vW, don't you know she would, too ? 

Pearl. I don't know anytbing about it. I was always at board- 
ing school, and she only saw me once a year. Laura was alwaya 
at home, and it's very diiFerent. But don't let's talk about it. To 
die — ugh ! I don't want to die till I don't want to live — and that'll 
not be for a million of years. Come, tell me— where have you been 
to-day ? bow many calls did you make ? {Sitting in tete-a-tete). 

Ray. About sixty. 

Pearl. That all '! You're lazy. Demilt and Windel made a 
hundred and thirty, and they say tliat g nothing. Won't you have 
a cup of coffee ? 

Ray. No. 

Pearl. Ain't you hungry ? 

Ray. No — you torment. 

Pearl. O, dear ! I suppose it's because you're going to be mar- 
ried shortly to Laura. If there's one time that a man's stupid to 
his friends, it's when he's going to be married shortly. Tell me 
whom you saw. (Ray has sauntered off (l.), and is looking over 
cards on table.) Where are you? Oh, you needn't be so impatient 
to see her. Do be agreeable ; sit here and tell me something funny, 
or I shall drop down and fall asleep. 

Ray. {Over her shoulder). You witch! Why didn't I fall in lore 
with you ? 

Pearl. {Laughing^ I donH know ; why didn't you ? 

Ray. You never keep me waiting. {Listening off n.) Ah, that 8 
hor step I No. 

Pearl. Do sit down. 

Ray. {Sitting). This calling's a great bore ; but as you and 
Lauka insisted I should go through it, I did. First I — {Jumping 
up.) I knew it was she. {Goes to door, R. H. ; meets Laura, wfw 
enters.) How yew did k'^ep me waiting. (Kisses both her hands.) 

Laura. And you, sir, we have been looking for you since eight 
o clock. 

Ray. O, I was fulfilling y ur orders. I've been engaged in the 
business of calling, from ten o'clock in the morning, till now — 
(looks at watch — ) ten at night. 

Laura. Well, you can make this your last one, for you have 
leave to spend a nice long hour chatting here before you go. Won't 
you have some supper. (Goes to bell), h. 2 E. on table. 

Ray. 1 don't care if I do I'm rather famished. 

Pearl. Well, I declare ! Did Laura bring your appetite with 
tier? '^xAUEA rirtga. 



UNDER THE GASLIGH1L. t 

Ray. I don't know how it is, but she brings me a lelish for every, 
tbiufj in life, I believe. Laura, I think if I were to lose you I'd 
mope to death and starve to death. 

Laura. Well, that's as much as to say I'm a sort of Life Pill 
(Mautin enters door l. n.) Supper. (Martik exits.) 

Hay. You may joke about it, — but it's so. You take tbe lounge 
(Lauka and Pearl sit on tetc-a-tete.) 

Pearl. You lon't want me to go away, do you? (Putting hei 
head on Laura's shoulder.) 

Laura. Certainly not. What an idea ! 

Pearl. I'm sure you'll have time enough to be alone when yo* 
are n^nrried. And I do so want to talk and be talked to. 

Laura. Well, Ray shall talk to you. 

^earl. He was just going to tell me about his calls to-dtty. 

Jiaura. That's exactly what we want to hear about. Did yo, 
call on every one we told you to? 

Ray. Every one. There was Miss 

Pearl. Did you go to Henrietta Liston's first ? 

Ray. Yes, and wasn't she dressed ! Speaking of dress, aie yo* 
going to have your ne-sv pink for the Sociable, Tuesday ? 

Laura. Yes, Pearl, and I will do credit tc tbe occasion, as it is 
our first for a year. 

Riiy. {Taking Laura's ha'nd.) And our last. 

Pearl. Our last ! 

Ray. Laura's and mine. For when we are married, ycA knrw, 
we shall be tabooed — where maids and bachelors only are pe .mitled, 

Pearl. blees me ! {rising.) How do you do Mrs. Trai i'"OR^. 

Laura, {rising) {sadly.) I wish you hadn't said tha' Pe/ sl. 
You know the old prjverb : " Call a maid by a married na' ae." 

Ray. Nonsense I {Putting his arm about Laura's wa St.) It's 
only a few days to wait, and we'll live long enough, y u k ow. 
For nothing but dej th shall separate us. 

[Martin appears at doa. d. 

Pea/rl. 0, here's supper. 

Martin Beg pardon, Miss. 

Laura. What's the matter? 

Martin. There's a person below, Miss, who says he'f b- '. -• sent 
with a bouquet for you, Miss, and must deliver it in per an 

Laura. Forme? Whose servant is it ? 

Martin. I don't know. Miss, he looks like one of tl js /^oldiep 
Messengers — red cap and all that. 

Laura. Show him up here. 

\Exit MARTir , D 2 E. L. 

Peairl. How romantic. So late at night. It's a rivi I ii disguise, 
Ray. 

(Martin re-enters shoicing in Snorkey, with an a'/r ij disdain, 
SfioR. has a large bouquet in Ids hand, and his hat is v ider the stump 
of his right arm, which is cut off. 

Lxura. You wished to see me ? 
Snorkey. (l. h.) Are you Miss Laura CouRTLi HD ? 
Laura. Yes. 

Snorkey. Then I was told to give you this. 
Laura. {Taking it from Ray, who has erased L I and receircd U 
from Snorkey.) By whom ? 



UNDEE ran GASLIGHT. 

Snorkey. Now, that's what I don't know myself ! You see I was 
down by the steps of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, taking a light suf>- 
per off a small toothpick, when a big chap dressed in black came by, 
and says he : " Hallo, come with me if yon want to earn a quarter." 
That {confidentially to alt) being my very frame of mind, I went up 
one street and down another, till we came here. " Just you take 
this up there," says he, " and ask for Miss Lauka Courtland, and 
give it to her and no one else." 
Laura. It is some folly of our late visitors 

Snorkey. I'm one of the Soldier Messengers, Miss. We take to 
it very well, considering we had so little running in Uncle Sam's 
service. 

Ray. (^s Snor. is going L.) Stop a moment, my man. Were 
you not one of the Twenty-second's recruits ? 

Snorkey. Yes, Captain ; I remember you joined us in New York, 
and left us at Washington. Real fighting wasn't funny, you 
thought, and I began to think so too at Fredericksburg. 
Ray. Poor devil. 

Snorkey. There was a South Carolina gentleman took such a 
fancy to me at Fredericksburg I Wouldn't have no denial,— cut off 
my arm to remember me by ; he was very fond of me. I wasn't any 
use to Uncle Sam then, so I came home, put a red band round my 
blue cap, and with my empty sleeve, as a charactei from my last 
place, set up for light porter and general messenger. All orders 
executed with neatness and dispatch. 

Pearl. And Uncle Sam has forgotten you. 

Snorkey. Ah ! Miss, don't blame Uncle Sam for that, he's got 
such a big family to look after, I can't find fault if he don't happen 
to remember all us poor stumps of fellows. 
Rat/, (l. h.) So it seems. 

Laura, (c.) {P'^xiiij takes bouquet.) Poor fellow I {To servant.) 
Martin, be sure and give him a glass of wine before he goes. 

Snorkey. (l. c.) I'm much obliged. Miss — but I don't think it 
would be good for me on an empty stomach — after fasting all day. 
Laura. Well, Martin shall find you some supper, too. 
Snorkey. Is this Martin ? What a nice young man. Mayn't 
he have a drop of something, too ? He must have caught cold let- 
ting me in, he has got such a dreadful stiffness in the back of his 
neck. [Martin exit. 

Ra>i. {Giving penciled address.) Call on me at this place to- 
morrow, and you shan't regret it. 

Snorkey All right, Cap'n 1 I havn't forgot the Army Kegula- 
tions about punctuality and promotion. Ladies, if ever either of 
you should want a Light Porter, think of Joe Snorkey — wages no 
objection. \^Exit L. H. door. 

Pearl (c.) [Who has been examining tJie bouquet) O! Laura, 
only look — here's a billet-doux ! 

Rail. Nonsense ! Crazy head ! Who would dare {takes bouquet) 
—a letter 1 {Takes a paper from bouquet.) 
Laura. A letter ? 
Pearl. I am crazy — am I ? 

Ray. {Reads superscription) "For Miss Lacra Courtlakd. 
Confidential." 

J^aura. {Laughs) Ha! Hal from some goose who has made 
Qne call too many to-day. Read it, Ray — {Offering !.etter.) 



UNDEF. THE GASLIGHT. 7 

liap "Dear Laura {Refusing the letter, and gi/iag ti 

Pearl ) 

Laura. (Looks at it a moment, when the wlwle, expression of face 
changes. Then reads slowly and dtlibentteli/. Kay down R. c. with 
Pearl.) " I respectfully beg you to grant me the favor of an inter- 
view to-night. I hace waited until your co-mpany retired. I am 
waiting ai'ross the street, now." 

Fcarl. {Buns to window.) A tall man in black is just walking 
away. 

Laura. "If you will have the door opened as soon as you get this, 
I will step over ; if you doii't, I will ring ; under all circumstan- 
ces I will get in. There is no need to sign my name ; you will re- 
member me as the strange rnan whom you once saw talking with 
your mother in the parlor, and who frightened you so much.'''' What 
cau be the meaning of this ? — Pearl — no — {ijoes to bell on iabls 
li. H., and rings ) 
Ray. Laura, you — 
Laura. Ask me nothing. I will tell you by-and-by. 

{Enter Martin, l. door. 

Martin. Missit 

Laura. Admit no one till you bring me the name. 
Martin. I was about to tell you, Miss, that a strange man Las 
forced himself in at the door and asks to see you, but will give no 
name. 

Ray. Kick the rascal out ! {^Cross to L, 

Fearl. Oh ! don't let him come here. 
Martin. He's a very strange-looking person, Miss. 
Ray. I'll find out what tliis means ! {Is going to door L. when 
Byke appears at it smding and hoioing) 

Byke. \1j. h.) I'll spai'e you the trouble, if you'll hear me a 
minute. 

Ray. (l. c.) {violently.) Who are you, fellow ? 
Ryke. Don't, I beg you. Don't speak so crossly • I might answer 
back — then you'd kick me out — and you'd never forgive yourself 
for it as long as I lived. 
Ray. Your business ? Come ! Speak quickly and begone. 
Byke. {Coming down L.) Business ! on this happy day ! I came 

for pleasure — to see Miss Courtland, my little pupil grown so 

only think, sir ! I knew her when she was only a little child 

I taught her music — she was so mu ical — and so beautiful 1 

adored her, and her mother told me I needn't come again — But I 
did — and her mother was glad to see me. Wasn't she, little pupil V 
—{to Laura, who is pale with terror, leaning on Peakl. Ray c, 
Byke l.) — and begged me co stay — but I said no — I'd call occasion- 
ally — to see my dear little pupil, and to receive any trifling contri- 
bution her mother might give me. Won't you shake hands, little 
pupil ? (Advances suddenly, ivhen Ray grasps him by the collar — 
Byke glares at him a moment. Then, quickly as before.) Don't I 
please, don't ! The stuff is old, and I've no other. 
Ray. The fellow's drunk ! Leave the house. 
Byke. What! after sending that touching bouquet ? 
Laura. It was you, then '! I knew it. 

Byke. You see she knows me. Ah ! memory how it bloom-s agaii 
where the plough of time has passed. 



8 tWDER THE GASLIGHT. 

.Laura Leave this house at once. 

Bi^/ce. Not until I have spoken to you. 

Iiaff. {Seizing him.) You miserable rascal. 

Bi/k-e. Don't, pray don't! I weigh a hundred and ninetj-r.ght 
pounds, and if you attempt to throw me about you'll strain yotiself 

Laura. {Crossing) Go. To-morrow in the morning I wi]2 see 
you. 

Byke. Thanks! I thank you, Miss, for your forbearance. (7'« 
Ray.) I am also obliged to you, sir, for not throwing me out at tht 
window. I am indeed. I wish you good night, and many happy re 
turns of the day. {Boies and turns to go- Then familiarly to ser- 
vant.) Many calls to-day, John ? lExit L. 

A'a//. {Buns to Laura, wJio is pale.) 

Laura. {Pointing after Byke.) See that he goes. 

[^Exit Ray, l. door 

Laura. {Taking hoth of Pearl's hands in her own.) Pearl, he 
must know everything. 

Fearl. O, dear ! this is dreadful ! I do hate scenes. 

Laura. He must know everything, I tell you ; and you must re- 
late all. He will question — he will ponder — leave him nothing to 
ask. 

Fearl. If you wish it, but — 

Laura. I desire it ; speak of me as you will — but tell him the 
truth. (Ray enters hastily, l.) Stay with her. Don't follow me. 

[Exit R. 

Jiaj/. {Doicn R. H.) Pearl, what does this mean. 

Pearl. O, it's only a little cloud that I want to clear up for you. 

Hai/. Cloud — how ? where ? 

Pearl. Don't I tell you I am going to tell you. Sit down here 
by me. {She sinks into tete-a-tete, c.) 

Riv/. {Promenading.) He said he knew her. And she gave him 
an interview for to-morrow. That drimken wretch — 

Pearl. Do sit down. I can never speak while you are walking 
about so. {Gets up, brings him to a chair, R. H. and makes him sit.) 
Sit by me, won't you ? for Ive got s imething strange to tell you. 

Ray. You serious ! I'd as soon expect to see the lightning tamed. 
Well, I listen. 

Pearl. I have something to say to you, Ray, which you must 
settle with your own heart. You love Laura, do ycu not ? 

Pay. Pearl, I do more, I adore her. I adore the v<~Ty air that she 
breathes. I will never be happy without her. I can ewear that. 

Pearl. Laura is twenty now. How do you think shi. looked when 
I first saw her ? 

Ray. Were you at home when she first came intc this earthly 
spliere ? 

Pca^^ Yes. 

Ray. W ell then, I suppose she looked very small and -ery pink. 

Pearl. She was covered with rags, barefooted, unkempt, crying 
and six years old. 

Ray. {Shocked.) Explain. 

Pearl. One night father and mother were going to the Opera 
When they were crossing Broadway, the usual c o-vd of children 
accosted them for alms. As mother felt in hei v<^ckut for some 
change, her fingers touched a cold and trembling haj>d which had 
clutched her purse. 



UNDEE THE GASLIGl *. 9 

Hai, A pickpocket ! Well. 

Pea) I. This hand my motlier fyrasped ir he: own, aiid so tight- 
ly that a small, feeble voice uttered an exclamatiou of pain. Mothei 
looked down, and there beside her was a little ragged girl. 

Ba,v. The thief. 

Pearl. Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like an 
angel's. "Stop!'' said my mother. "What are you doing V" 
" Trying to steal," said the child. " Don't you know that it's wick 
ed to do so? " asked my fatlier " No," said the girl, " but it's dreael- 
ful to be hungry." " Who told you to steal '? " asked my mother. 
" She — there ! " said the child, pointing to a squalid woman in a 
doorway opposite, who fled suddenly down the street. " That is 
Old Judas," said the girl. 

Pai/. Old Judas. What a name ! But how does this story in- 
terest us ? 

Pearl. This child was Lauha. My father was about to let her 
go unharmed — but my mother said " No, it is not enough. We have 
a duty to perform, even to her," and acting on a sudden impulse, 
took her to our home. On being questioned there, the child seemed 
to have no recollection, save of misery and blows. My mother per- 
suaded father, and the girl was sent to a country clergyman's for 
instruction, and there she remained for several years. 

Pay. Pearl, you are joking with me. 

Pearl. In beauty, and accomplishments, and dignity, Laura 
(as mother named her) exceeded every girl of her age. In grati- 
tude she was all that father could have wished. She was intro- 
duced as you know^, into society as my cousin, and no one dreams c ( 
her origin. 

Pay. {Starting np). LAURA, an outcast — a thief! 

Pearl. (Risixf/). No, that is what she might have been. 

Pa;/. And this man — to-night. 

Pearl. All I know about him is, that four years ago this man 
came with a cruel looking woman, to see mother. There was a 
fearful scene between them, for Laura and I sat trembling on the 
Biairs, and overheard some awful words. At last they went away, 
the man putting money into his pocket as he left. 

Pai/. But who were they ? 

Pearl. Laura never told me, and mother wovikl not. But, of course, 
they must have been Laura's father and mother. (Ray sinks o» 
chair as if overcome.) ■ 

Pearl. Mother made me prom'se never to tell anybody this, and 
you would have known nothing had not Laura made me speak. 
You see, she would not conceal anything from you. ( Go'mg io /n?n.) 
Ray, why don't you speak — shall I go after Laura ? Shall I tell 
ber to come to you? Why don't you answer? {Goine/.) I'll go 
ftod tell her you want to see her. {Pausivg as she goes K.) I'm going 
to send her to you, Ray. 

[Goes off 'R. still looking hack at him. 

T^o.y. {Starting up.) What a frightful story. Laura Courtland 
I thief! A drunken wretch who knows her history, and a squalid 
Deggar woman who can claim her at any moment as their child, 
^nd I was about to marry her. Yes, and I love her. But what 
i»-ou]d my mother think? My friends? Society? No — no — no — I 
fannot think of it. I will write her — I will tell her — pshaw I she 
knows o^ course tbat I cannot wed her now ! {Goes to the tihle L. u, 



10 UNDER TUE GASLIGHT 

E.) Here is paper. (S'is.) Wliat am I about to do ? What will 
be said of me ? But I owe a duty to myself — to society — I must 
perform it. ( WriUs.) '' Laura, / /lave /ward <■/ all from your niaier.'' 
What have I said — {crosses out last word) — " from Pearl. You know 
that 1 hive you, hid my mother will demand of me a wife who will not bluxh 
to own her kindred, and who is not the dimghter of obscurity and ohne." 
It is just ; it is I who have been deceived. {Fo'ds letter and addresses 
it). I will leave it for her. (I'uls on light overcoat, which haniis on. 
thair at back.) I must go before she returns. Her step — too late! 
[Grams the letter into p n-ket of overcoat. LAURA enters E. H.) 

Laura. (Gently). Ray. 

Jxay. Miss — Miss CourtlaND. (Laura looks at him a moment, 
tmilcs and then crosses C. without further noticing him, and sits down c^n 
tetc-a-tete.) What have I said ? What ought I to have said ? (//« 
takes a step towards her — she rises, without lookine/ at Mm goes to windov — 
looks out, then looks over books on table R. H.) 

Ray. Laura — I — 

Laura. Pshaw, where is my book ? 

Jiay. What book do you want, Laura ? 

Laura. Sir. 

Hay. {Repulsed.) Oh! — (pause) — I've been a fool. How lovely she 
looks. (He follows her mechanically to table L.) Can I find it for you? 
[Laura picks up a book and reseats herself. 

Laura, Don't trouble yourself I beg. 

Ray. (Coming forward and leaning over her seat.) Laura. 

Laura. ( Without lifting her head.) Well. 

Ray. (Toying with her hair). Look at me. 

Laura. (Turns round and looks full at him.) 

Ray. No, no, not that way ; as you used to. You act as if I were 
a stranger. 

Lanra. They are only strangers who call me Miss Courtland. 
(Resumes reading.) 

Ray. Forgive me, I beg you to forgive me. (Coming round and 
sittting beside her.) I was mad — it was so sudden — this miserable 
story — but I don't care what they say. I do listen to me. I 
thought you hated reading. 

Lanra. I often wish that I were ugly, wretched and repulsivOj 
like the heroine in this story. (Seats herself.) 

Ray. (Behind her.) Why? 

Laura. Because, then I could tell who really loved me. 

Ray. And don't you know 1 

Laura. No ; 1 do not. 

Ray. Well, I know. 

Laura. Do tell me then, please. 

Ray. He has told you so himself a hundred times. 

Laura. You. 

Ray. I. 

Laura. (Laughing heartily at him, then seriously.) How happj 
must those women be, who are poor, and friendless, and plain, when 
some true heart comes and says : I wish to marry you. 

Ray. Laura, you act very &jrangely to-night. 

Laura. Will you put this book away ? 

Ray. (Throws it 071 table.) There IjAURA. (Sects himself betide her.) 

Laura. (Ri4:ig.) There's Pearl calling me. 

Ray. (R(sing and taking herh . id.) Laur.\, why don't yoa let iu« 
speak to you. 



UNDER TUE GASLIGHT. 11 

Laura. About wliat ? 

Jxay. About my love. 

Laura. For whom V Not me. This is only marriage and giving 
In marriage. I hate the very word. 

Ray. You did not tliiuk so once. 

Laura. I wish I had. I am frightened now ; I begin to under- 
stand myself better. 

Ray. And I am frightened because I understand you less. 

Laura. Do not try to ; good night. [Up n. c. stops by door as 
she is going out,) good night Mr. Trafford. 

[^Exit laughing, r. 2 E. 

Ray. I've been an ass. No, I wrong that noble animal. The 
ass recognized the angel, and I, like Balaam, was blind. But I see 
now. After all what have I to fear? {Takes letter from pocket.) 
No one knows of this, {puts it in his pocket again.) Let things go on ; 
we'll be married, go straight to Europe, and live there ten years. 
That's the way we'll fix it. 

{Exit L. 2 E. Scene closes in. 

SCENE n. {1st Grooves) — The Gentlemenh coat-room at Del- 
'M.O'sico^s opening {c.) for hat and coat. Chairs (l. 
H.) Pier-glass on flat. 

[Enter Windel and Demilt mvffleJ, and with umbrellas L. 2 E. 
They proceed to disrobe.) 

Bern. Phew ! wet as the deuce, and cold, too. There'll be n(v 
body here. 

Wind. It's an awful night. The rooms are almost empty. 

Dem. Sam ! Where the dickens is that darkey ? {Enter Sam r. 
fetcMng in a chair, and bootblack, box and brush ) 

Sam. Here, sah. 

Dem. {Sitting in chair.) Hurry up with my boots. Who's here? 

Sam. Berry few gemman, sah ; only lebben overcoats and ten 
overshoes. Bless de Lord — dem overshoes is spilin the polishin bu- 
BJJiess. 

Dew. Look out and don't give me any knocks. 

Wind. {Hnnding in his coat at window and getting check for il.) I 
wonder if the Courtland girls have come yet. 

Dem. What did Laura Courtland ever see in Trafford to 
liall in love with ? The Van Dam party is my fancy. 

Wind. {Briixhing his hair at glai<s.) She's ten years older than 
you, and has a husband. - 

Dem. Yes, a fine old banker, on whom she can draw for every- 
thing but attention and affection. She has to get that by her own 
business tact. 

{Other parties enter, exchange good-nights, and deposit their 
coats ; some go out at once, some arrange themselves at glass.) 

Dem. That'll do, Sam, take my coat. {Enter Ray, l. 1 E.) 

Wind. Hallo! Trafford, this is a night, ain't it? Have tha 
CoURTLANDS come ? 

Ray. Not with me. Here, Sam, take my coat. {His coat is pulled 
of bi, Sam, and four letters dropout.) Stupid. 

Dc7n Save the pieces. Mind the love letters. 



12 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

ii'rty. {Pivkhir; them up.) Look out well next time. There's tlial 
cursed letter I was goin^ to send to La.tjra. (^onfouud it, I must 
destioy it when I go home. {Futs letters hack in ouervoat pocket.) 
(Ray (/ets /li.t Ixxita tuachcd np.) 

Dein. I say, TuAFFORD, what'll you take, and let a fellow read 
those ? Win DEL, I guess if the girls could get into tlie cloak-room, 
it would be better than the dead-letter office. What a time they'd 
have ! Are j'ou ready ? 

Wind. What's the use of hurrying? There's no life in the party 
till Laura t ourtland comes. By Jove, Trafford I you're ia 
luck. She's the prettiest girl in New Y.)rk. 

Jxai/. And the best. {March mnsic hfard.) 

Dem. There's the march music; let's go. {G(is afinalbrunh as 
theij all go of A 1 E) 

Jia;/. Come along. [Kxunf. 

Sain. (Picking np a letter dropped from Rat's pocket.) Dere's 
anoder of dem billy dooses ; wonder if it am Mist' Trafford's. 
Eh, golly ! niusn't mix dem gentlemen's letters, — musn't mix 'em 
nohow, — or an oberruling providence wouldn't be able to stoi^ fight- 
ing in dis city for de nex month. 

[Exit, carrying a chair, r. 1 e. 

{Scene draica off to dance music.) 

( Wait till change of music he/ore change of 8c.) 



SCENE III. — The Blue Boom at Delmonico' s. Waltz-music ai 
the Scene opens. Waltzers in motion. Pearl is 
dancing with Mrs. Van Dam. 

{Enter Trafford, Demilt, and Windel, r. l. r.) 

Pearl. There's Ray. I've had enough; I want to speak with 
him. {Bursts away from Mrx. Van D., vidis up to TRx\FFOED. De 
Milt goes vp to Mrs. Van D ) 

Fcarl. (To Ray.) You lazy fellow, whero have you been ? 

Dem. You're not tired, are you t 

M)s. V. IJ.. I feel as fresh as a daisy. 

Dem. Have a waltz with me. ( Waltz music, piano, as tliey dance. 
WiNDEL goes to SUE Earlie.) 

Kay. {Connng donm ivith Peahl.) Where's Laura ? 

Pearl. She wasn't ready, and I was dying to come. Been fixed 
since eight o'clock ; so I came with Sue Earlie. So you made it 
up with Laura. 

Ray. Yes. Don't say anything more about the horrid subject. 
We've made it all up. But what on eardi keeps her to-ni/jht ? It's 
eleven already. {Looking at watch.) Co ifound it, I tremble every 
moment she's out of my sight. I fear that terrible man and hia 
secret. 

jMrs. V. D. {Coining np withD'EMiLT.) TitAFFOTtD, you look very 
uneasy. What's the matter ? 

Pay. 0, nothing. I think I ought to go fur Laut'iA. I will, too. 
{Servant passes at bark.) Here! go up stairs for my overcoat. {Gives 
the man a card, an.i he goes ovi.- 

Mrs. V. D. Nonsense ! She'll Le here in good time. You shan't 
leave us. Sold him, Pearl We want a nine-pin qua<lrill8 : we 



UNDER TUE GASLIGHT. 18 

bttven't half enough p^entlemen. Come, be jolly about it. Yoa 
L'Vcrs are always afraid some one will carry your girls away. 

JiiJij. {Uneaay.) 1? I'm not afraid. 

Pearl. Come, come ! 1 never saw such a restless fellow. 

(Servant e^/fcs ?/•///* co 4, c.) 

Servant. Here's your coat, sir. 

J//VS. [^(tn D. Give it to me. I'm determined you shan t go, 
'. fakes coat car>;les>ili/.) I'll make you a promise — if Latjra isn't hero 
t\ fifteen minutes you shall have your coat, and may go for her. 

Hat/ Well, I suppose I'll have to wait. 

Afrs Vail I). There : take Mm off. Pearl. (Rat goes vp with 
Pearl. To Servant.) Here take this back. Fiivps coat to Ser. 
VANT. As s/ie docs .'o, letters drop from it.) Well, there's a mesa' 
(Sue Eaklie and another lady run forward and pick up letters.) Love 
Litters, of course ! — [Smelling t/icm.) Perfumed to suffocation. 

Sue Eariie. Here's one for Laura. It's unsealed and not deliv 
ered. 

Mrs. Van D. {Tremolo waltz music.) A fair prize! Let's see it. 
{Munic. Takes and opens it. Puts on eye-glaxxes and reach.) 
" Latra" — Well, come ! That's cool for a lover. " I have heard all 

from" something scratched out — ah! — "Your sister, Pearl— 

YoK" ohscure origin — terrible family connexions — the serret of the 
tie yihich Mnds you to a drunlcen icrcfch — My mother^ Society — icill 
der.iimd of me a wife who will not blush to oicn her kindred., — or 
stavii at the name of outcast and thief! 

" Signed, Ray Trapford." 

^All stand speechless and look at each other. All this time the 
res^i have been dancing.) 

Sue JEarlie. What can it mean ? 

Mrs. Van. D. It means that the rumors of ten years ago are prov- 
en. It was then suspected that the girl whom Mrs. Courtland 
brought every year from some unnamed place in the country, and 
introduced to everybody as her niece, was an impostor, which that 
foolish woman, in a freak of generosity, was thrusting upon society. 
The rumors died out for want of proof — and before Laura's beauty 
and dignity — but now they are confirmed. She is some beggar's 
child. 

Sue Earlie. What do you think we ought to do ? (Trafford 
surrenders Pearl to Demilt, and comes down.) 

Mrs. Van D. Tell it — tell it everywhere, of course. The best 
blood of New York is insulted by the girl's presence. (Trafford 
com-i?>g doiim.) 

R-ay. (r. H.) What have you three girls got your head B togeth- 
er for ? Some conspiracy, I know\ 

31 rs. Van D. {To ladies.) Go girls — tell it everywhere. 

Ray. {As the ladies distribute themselves about the groups.) What is 
't all about ? Your face is like a portrait of mystery. 

Mrs. Van B. {Shewing letter.) Look at this, and tell me what it 
means. 

Ray. ( Quickly ) Where did you get this ? 

Mrs, Van I) It is you who must answer — and Society that will 
question. So Laura is not a Coxtrtland ? 

Ray. { Overcome.) You know, then, 

Mrs. Van £>. Everything; and will you marry this creature 1 
Tou cannot, Societv will not permit your sacrifice. 



V4 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

/?rty. This is not voux business. Give me that letter. 

Mrx. Van D. Certainly ; take it. But let me say one word — its 
contents are known. In an hour every tongue will queiMion you 
about this secret, — every eye will inquire. 

Ray. I implore you ! Do not breathe a word for her sake. Sht 
iurnn scornful/i/ awati.) 

Mrs,. Van D. The secret's not mine. 

Ray. Who knows it ? 

3Irs. Van D. Look ! {Points to others wTio are grouped ahoiit 
whispering and motioning toicards Rat. Peael enters here E., 
and speaTiS to lady and gents L. c.) 

Ray. ( Wildly.) What will they do? 

Mrs. Van D. Expose her ! Expel her from society in which ohe 
is an intruder ! 

Kay, You dare not ! 

[Pearl comrt forward L. 

Pearl. 0, Ray ! What is the meaning of this ? 

Ray. (Bitterly.) It means that society is & terrible avenger of 
Insult. Have you ever heard of the Siberian wolves ? When onn 
of the pack falls through weakness, the others devour him. It is 
not an elegant comparison — but there is something wolfish in soci- 
ety. Laura has mocked it with a pretence, and society, which iii 
made up of pretences, will bitterly resent the mockery, 

Mrx. Van D. Very good ! This handsome thief has! stolen youT 
breeding as well as your brains, I see. 

Ray. If you speak a word against her, I will say that what yoi 
atter is a lie ! 

Mrs. Van D. As you please, we will be silent. But yr u will fin I 
that the world speaks most forcibly when it utters no sound. 

Pearl. O, go and prevent her coming here. 

Rdy. That I can do, {going up hastily sees Laura entering al C. H) 
Too late. ( He retreats R. C ) 

Mrs. Van D. Come girls ! Let us look 'after our things. They 
arc no longer safe when such an accomplished thief enters. 

{Music low as Laura enters, continues tchile all except Pe»,rl 
atidHxY pass out, eyeing her superciliously. Laura c. Pearl e.) 

Pearl. Ray, Ray, why do you not come to her? 

Mrs. Van J). ( Up C. of stage, surrounded by others^ Are yon no 
coming with us "Tr afford ? 

Pearl. { To Laura.) Let us go home. 

Laura. No ; stay with him., {pointing toUxY, who has held off.) J^€ 
shall not suffer the disgrace long! {About to faint, Ray r% asfoi- 
*tard she proudly waves him away.) It is Heaven's own blow. 

Picture — Quick Curtiin, 
■> Rat Lacha Ain> Feabl, c. Party at back. 



ACT II. 

{Green CL th doTsn,) 
g/.ENE I. — Interior of a Basement. Street and railiiigf ae«n 
through window at hack. Entrance to F. Jrom D. F. 
li. H. Stove loith long pipe in Jire-place, K. XT. E. TaMt 
between, two windows at hack, with Jicjcers.^ ^'C 
Uumble furniture. Tahle c. three chain. Cl'^act 'j 

E. L. H. 

Peachblossom is discovered polishing stove r. k,- #■ dip-sho.i 
girl a la Fanchon. 

SONG— Peach : 

A lt>rdly knight and alovel}' dame, were walking in th? mtndow, 

Bi<(, a jealous rival creeping came a-watcbing in the jj-id^w ; 

Tbe.y heeded not, but he whet bis knife and dogg'd tb'-A' in the shadow. 

The knight ivas brave, and the dame was true, the .'vyl fared but badly; 

For the knight he drew and ran him through, and ''/"t him groaning sadly. 

The knight and dame soon wedded were, with ben>< a-chiming gladl)-. 

Peach. {Talking w/iife working.) The stop's won't shine. It's the 
fault of the polish I know. That boy that v»,mes here, just fills the 
bottles with mud, and calls it stove polish Only let me catch him. 
Ah ! Ah ! {thrcahiing gesture with tjrnsli.) \ .declare I'd give it up if 
I didn't want to make everything look smart, before Miss Nina 
comes in. Miss Nina is tlie only fri'jrd I ever had, since 1 ran 
away from Mother Judas. I wonder where old Judas is now ? I 
know she's drunk ; she always was ; perhaps that's why she never 
tried to find out what became of me. If she did she could not take 
me away. Miss Nina begged me off a policeman. I belong to 
her. I wonder why she ain't got any other friends 1 She's awful 
mysterious. Tells me never to let any strangers see her. She's 
afraid of somebody, I know. It looks just as if she was hiding. I 
thought only bad girls, such as I, had to hide. If I was good and 
pretty like her, I wouldn't hide from the President. {Still polish- 
ing.) (Judas apprarx at window with baski t oj ornaments, (£'f.) 

Judas. Hum ! Is your ma in my dear ? 

Feach. {Startinn.) Oh! {aside) OldJuDAs! She's foTind me out 
at last. No she h'aint, or she'd have got me by the hair before she 
spoke. That's her way. 

Judas. {Coming in a* door. PeACH keeps her back towards her.) 
Any old clothes to change for chany, my dear ? Where's your ma's 
oJi skirts and shawls, my pet. Get 'em quick before mother comes 
in, and I'll give you a beautiful chany mug or a tea-pot for them. 
Come here, my ducky — see the pretty — (recognizes Peach.) Eh ! 
why you jail-bird, what are you doing here ? Are you sneakin' it ? 
Answer me, or I'll knock your head agin the wall. {Catches htr by 
the hair.) 

J'each. You just leave me be? I'm honest I am ! I'm good. 

Jndas. You're good ? Where's my shoe? I'll lake the goodnees 
out o jou. 

15) 



16 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

reach. Oil, oil ! please don't beat nic. T ait t good. I'm only 
trying to be. 

Jiuhts. You're only trying to be, eh ? Trying to be good, and 
here's me as was a-vveeping every night, thinking as you was sent 
up for six months. Who're you living with — you ain't a-keeping 
house, are you ? 

Peach. I'm living with MiSS NiNA. 

Judas. NtNA, what's she, conocrt-saloon girl ? 

Peach. No, she's a lady. 

Jiuhix. A lady — and have such baggage as you about. Where's 
my shoe, I'll make you speak the truth. 

Peach. I don't know what she is. She met me when the police 
was taking me up for loafin' down Hudson Street, and she begged 
me off. 

Judas. Has she any money ? 

Peach. No, she's poor. 

Judas. Any nice clothes ? 

Peach. O, she's got good clothes. 

Judas. Where are they ? 

Peach. Locked up, and she's got the key. 

Judas. You're lying, I see it in your eye. You're always shame- 
faced when you are telling the truth, and now you're as bold as 
brass. Where's my shoe ? {nmkiug a dash at her.) 

Peach. (S/ioniviff.) There's Miss NiNA (as if curt&ei/ing to some 
o>ie behind JuDAS.) Good morning, miss. 

Judas. {Chiinr/vicf her tone.) Ah ! my pretty dear ! What a good 
lady to take you in and give you a home. {Tarns and discovers the 
deception — in n rar/c.) You hussy, (Peach retreats) wait till I get 
you in my clutches again, my lady ; and it won't be long. Miss 
Nina takes care of you, does she. Who will take care of her ? 
Let her look to it. (Laura enters D. F. pJainly dressed, at back.) 
Beg pardon, Miss, I just called to see if you had any old clothes 
you'd like to exchange. 

Lama. No, I don't want anything, my good woman. 
Judas. {Eyeing her sharply and going to door.) That's her — I'd know 
her anywheres ! (Malicious glance, and exit.) 

Laura. You've been very good this morning, Blossom. The 
room is as nice as I could wish. 

I'each. Please 'm, I tried because you are so good to me 
(Laura tahing off her shawl and thiiip.^.) Shall I sweep out the airy i 
(Laura do(S not answer.) I guess I'd better — then she'll be alone, 
us she loves to bo. {7'akes broom and exit, D. F.) 

Laura (Solos. Opening a package and faking out photographs.) No 
pay yet for coloring, 'till I have practiced a week longer. Then I 
shall have all the work I can do. They say at the photographers I 
color well, and the best pictures will be given me. The best ! 
Already I have had beneath my brush so many faces that I know, 
friends of the old days. The silent eyes seem to wonder at me foi 
bringing them to this strange and lowly home. (Picking up letters 
from tale.) Letters; ah! answers to my advertisement for em- 
ployment. No, only a circular " To the lady of this house." What's 
that ! ( Siarting) only Blossom sweeping. Every time there is a 
noise I dread the entrance of some one that knows me. But they 
rould never find me in New York, I left them all too secretly and 
suddenly None of them can expect I would have descended t<- 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 1', 

this. Bat it IS natural, everything will find its level, i. sprang 
from poverty, and I return to it. Poou Pearl. How she must 
have wondered the next morning — Laura gone? But three 
months have passed, and they have forgotten me. Ray will cheer 
her. ( Wranglivf; oiifx'de, PeacIIBLOSSOM /nirxts in dragghic; BERMU- 
DAS, tvilh Ids pvdfe.sfiiona/ tape, pins, blacking and baskets, D. P. 

Feach. Here he is m'm. 

Ber. Leave go, I tell yer, or I'll make yer. 

Laura. What is the matter ? 

Peach. He's the boy that sold me that stove polish what isn't 
stove polish. 

Ber. What is it then — s-a-a-y ? 

Peach. It's mud 1 it's mud at ten pence a Lottie. 

Ber. Ah! Where could I get mud? Ain't the streets clean? 
Mud's dearer than stove polish now. 

Peach. And your matches is wet, and your pins won't stick, and 
your shoe-strings is rotten, there now ! 

Ber. Well, how am I to live ; it ain't my fault, it's the taxes. 
Ain't I got to pay my incouie tax, and how am I to pay it if I gives 
you your money's worth ? Do you think I'm Stewart — Sa-a-y ? 

Laura. Do let the boy alone, BLOSSOM. Send him away. {Enter 
Peanuts at door flat.) 

Peannt.^!. Extra ! Hollo, Bermudas ! how's your sister ? Pa- 
pers, Miss. Extra ! Kevolution in Mexico ! 

Laura. Dear, dear, this is the way I'm worried from morning till 
night. 

Ber. Here, just you get out I This is my beat. 

±*mnnt)i. Veil, I ain't blacking or hairpins now, I'm papers — 
How'i.; I hurting you ? 

Ber. V oil, I'm papers at tc'CiV o'clock, and this is my beat. Take 
care of me, I'^n in training for a fight. I'm a bruiser, I am. 

Peanntx. Ho^dyerjaw. {they jit/ht.) 

Peach. {Beatu //l."( with broom.) Get out with you. Both of you. 
{Grand escapade and exit of logs. d. f.) 

Laura. Don't let be troubled in this way again. Have you got 
th c things for dinner ? 

Peach. Lor, no, miss! It's twelve o'clock, and I forgot ! 

(Peach gets shawl, big bonnet from hooks on the icall, lasJcet 
from closet., while Laura opens hr pocket-book for money.) 

Laura. What did we have for dinner yesterday, Blossom ? 

Pearli. Beefsteak, 'm. Let's have some leg o' mutton to-day. 
We've cevei had that. 

Lr.nra. But I don't know how to cook it. Do y( u ? 

Peach. No, but I'd just slap it on, and it's sl re to come oul 
right. 

iMur. Slap it on what ? 

Peach. The gridiron. 

Laura. {Giving movey) No, we'd better not try a leg of mx;**oa 
to-day. Gel some lamb chops, we know how to manage them. 

Peach. {As she is going.) Taters, as usual, 'mum? 

Laura. Yes ; and etop Blossom — while you're buying the chops, 
iust ask the butcher — off hand— you know — how \e would cook a 
leg of mutton, if he were going to eat it himself!- fts if you wantc(f 
to know for yourself. 

Peach. Yes'm— but I'm sure it's iust as good broiled a« fried 

[L'xit D. F 



18 JNDEE thl; gaslight. 

Laiira. Now tc be cook. (Lau, hwf/.) "The Tuesday Sociable ' 
ought to Sf.'o rae now. Artist in the morning, cook at noon, artist 
in the afternoon. {Snorkey raps at the door F. and enters.) 

Snorkc;;. (With letter.) Beg pardon, is there anybody here as an 
■swers to the name of A. B. C. V 

Laura. (Aside.) My advertisement for work. — Yes, give it to 
me. 

Snorkey. {Seehui her fnce.) If I'd been taking something this 
morning, 'I'd say that I'd seen t hat face in a different sort of pla ?e 
Irom this. 

Laura. Is there anything to pay ? Why do you wait ? 

Snorkey. Nothing, Miss. It's all right. (Going — axd aside.) 
But it ain't all right, Snorkey, old boy I (Goes out after looking 
at her, stops at window, and gazes in.) 

Laura. (Withotit noticing him, opening Ict'er.) Yes, an answer 
to my advertisement. (Reails.) To A. B. C: " Tour advertise- 
ment jjroinises that you are a good linguist, and can teach chilr- 
dren of any age. I have two daughters fur whom. I wish to engage 
your services while on a tour of Europe. Call at seven o'clock, 
this evening, at No. 207 W. S4:th Street. Anneksley." Hope at 
i;^3t — a home, and in another land soon. I was &ure the clouds 
would not always be black above me I (Kisses letter. Snoriley 
re-entering.) 

Snorkey. Miss, I say, Miss. (Laura starts.) — Sh 

Laura. What do you want? 

Snorkey. Only one word — and perhaps it may be of service to 
you. I'd do anything to sers'e you. 

Laura. And why me '? 

Snorkey. I'm a blunt fellow, Mif*8, but I hope my way don't of- 
'end. Ain't you the lady that I brought a bouquet to on New Year's 
iight — not here, but in a big house, all bright and rich — and who 
was BO kind to a poor soldier 1 

Lanra. (Faint and leaning against chair.) Whoever you maybe, 
promise to tell no one you saw me here. 

Snorkey. No fear, Miss ! I promise. 

Laura. Sacredly ! 

Snorkey. No need to do more than promise, Miss — I keeps my 
word. I promised Uncle Sam I'd stick to the flag — though they 
tore my arm ofl", and by darnation I stuck. I don't want to tell 06 
you Miss. I want to tell on some one else. 

Laura. What do you mean ? 

Siiorkey. They're looking for you 

Lanra. Who ? 

Snorkey. Byke. (Laura utters a loud cry and sinks on chair) 
He's on it day and night. I've got his money in my pocket now, 
md you've got his letter in your hand this minute. 

(Lattra drops the letter in dismay. 

Jjanra. This ? 

Svorkey. Yes, it his writin' — looks like a woman's, don't itT 
Lord I the snufF that man's up to, would make Barnum sneeze 
his head off. He's kept me in hand, 'cause he thinks I know you, 
having seen you that oncb. Every day he reads the advertise- 
ments, and picks out a dozen or so and says to me : '' Snorkey, 
that's like my little pet," and then he sits down and answers them 



UNbER THE GASLIGHT. 19 

%nd gets the advertisers to make appointments with him, which ho 
keeps regularly, and regularly comes back cussing at his ill luck. 
See here Miss, I've a bundle of answers to deliver, as usual, to 
advertisers. I calls 'em Byke's Target Practice, and this time, you 
gee, he's accidentally hit the mark. 

Laura. For Heaven's sake do not betray me to him! I've got 
very little money, I earn it hardly ; but take it, take it — and savt 
ine. {Offers vtoiiei/.) 

Snorkel/. No, Miss ; not a cent of it. Though Byke is a devil, 
and would kick me hard if he thought I would betray him. 

Laura. I don't want you to suffer for my sake, take the money. 

Snorkeii. No, I stood up to be shot at for thirteen dollars a 
month, and I can take my chances of a kickin' for nothing. But 
Byke ain't the only one Miss, there's another's looking for you. 

Laura. {Her look of joy cliangivg to fear.) Another I Who ? 

tSnorkey. {Approaching sinUingly and confidential.) Mr. TraFFORD, 
(Laura turns aside despair inghj.) He's been at me every day for 
more than six weeks. " Snorkey " says he, " do you remember that 
beautiful young lady you brought the bouquet to on New Year's 
night ?" " Well," says I, " Capt'n, the young lady I slightly disre- 
member, but the cakes and wine I got there that night I shall 
never forget." " Search for that young lady," says he, " and when 
you find her " — 

Laura. No, no, no ; not even he must know. Do you hear — 
not he — not anyone. You have served them well ; serve me and 
be sUent. 

Snorkey. Just as you please, Miss, but I hate to serve you by 
putting your friends off the track — it don't seem natural — Byke I 
don't mind ; but the Capt'n wouldn't do you any harm. Just let 
me give him a bit of a hint. (Laura snakes an entreating gesture.) 
Well I'm mum, but as I've only got one hand, it's hard work to 
hold my tongue. {Going.) Not the least bit of a hint ? (Laura 
appealingly and then turns away.) They say when a woman says 
no, she means yes ! I wonder if I dare tell her that he's not far 
off. Perhaps I'd better not. But I can tell him. {Exit D. F. 

Louura. How shall I ever escape that dreadful man ? And Ray 
Bearching for me too ! Our friends then remember ui= as well as our 
enemies. (Peachblossom enters quickly D. F. shutting the door 
behind her, with basket loJdch she places on table c.) 

Peach. C Miss Nina, whatever is into the people ? There's a 
strange man coming down the entry. I heard him asking that red 
cap fellow about you. 

Laura. Byke 1 Fasten the door quick, (Peach runs to door, it 
is slightly opened, she pushes it against some one on the other side.) 

Peach. dear ! He's powerful strong, I can't keep it shut. Go 
•way you willin ! Oh! {The door is forced and 'Ra^ enters.) 

Ray. {Advancing c.) Lauka — It is I. 

Laura, (r. h.) Ray ! {Shrinks from him.) 

Ray. Dear Laura ! {He stops as lie becomes conscious that Blossom 
with her basket on her arm and her bonnet hanging on her back is 
staring at him ) I say, my girl, havn't you some particular business 
somewhere else to attend to ? 

Peach. {Seriously, L. H.) No, sir ; I've swept the sidewalk and 
gone a marketing, and now I'm in doors and I mean tc stay , 

Rny. And wouldn't you oblige me by going for a sheet of paper 



20 UNDER THE GA3LJGIIT. 

and an envelope ? Here's a dollar — try and see how slo »v yoq 
can be. 

Peach. {Firmly) You can't sheet of paper me, mister ; I'm pro- 
tecting Kiss Nina, and I'm not to be enveloped. 

Laura. Go as the gentleman asks you, Blossom. 

Peach. Oh ! {Takes money, fixes her honnet.) First it's " Keep 
the man out," now it's " Let him stay in alone with me." But I 
suppose she's like all of us — it makes a great difference which man 
it is. 

{Exit, D. F. 

Bay. {After watcJdng Peach ovt.) Latjra, when I approached 
you, you shrank from me. Why did you so ? 

Lau7'a. Look around you and find your answer. 

Ray. {Shuddering.) Pardon me, I did not come here to insult 
your misery. When I saw you I forgot everything else. 

Laura, (r. c.) And now it's time for us to remember every- 
thing. I told you to look around that you might understand that 
in such a place I am no longer Laura Courtland, nor anything I 
used to be. But I did not ask your pity. There is no misery here. 

Bay. Alone, without means, exposed to every rudeness, impro- 
tected, is this not misery for you? 

Laura. {Laiighing.) Oh, it's not so bad as that. 

Bay. Laura, don't trifle with me. You cannot have exchangee 
everything that made you happy, for this squalid poverty, and not 
feel it deeply. 

Laura. I have not time to feel anything deeply. Takes basket 
up, goes to table, busies herself about preparing dinner.) I work 
from sunrise till night, and I sleep so soundly that I have not even 
dreams to recall the past. Just as you came in I was about to cook 
our dinner. Only think — lamb chops I 

Bay. Lamb chops ! It makes me shudder to hear you speak. 

Laura. Does it 1 Then wait till I get the gridiron on the fire, 
and you'll shiver. And if you want to be transfixed with horror, 
slop and take dinner. 

Bay. I will not hear you mock yourself thus, Laura. I tell you 
in this self-banishment you have acted thoughtlessly — you have 
done wrong. 

Laura. Wliy ? 

Bay. Because, let the miserable creatures who slandered you say 
what they might, you had still a home and friends. 

Laura. A home ! Where the very servants would whisper an'I 
point. Friends who would be ashamed to acknowledge me. You 
are mistaken. That is neither home nor friendship. 

Bay. And you are resolved to surrender the past forever. 

Laura. The past has forgotten me in spite of myself. 

Bay. Look at me. 

Laura. {Coming doim, C.) Well then, there's one who has not 
forgotten me, but I desire that he may. You speak to me of bitter- 
ness. Your presence, your words, cause me the first pang I have 
felt since the night I fled unnoticed from my chamber, and began 
my life anew. Therefore I entreat you to leave me, to forget me. 

Bay. Laura, by the tie that once bound us!— 

Laura. {Going up.) Yes, once. It ix a long time ago. 

Bay. What have I said ?— the tie which still— 

Laura. {Shar/Ay tv,rning.) Mr. Tkaff )RD, must I remind you 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 21 

of that night, wlien all arrayed themselves so pitilessly against me t 
When a gesture from yoami.ght have saved me ! And you saw me 
sink without stretching a finger to the woman who had felt the 
beating of your heart. No, you made your choice then — the world 
without me. I make my choice now — the wide, wide, world with 
out you. 

Ray. I have been bitterly punished, for we are never so humili- 
aisd as whei we despise ourselves. ]3ut, by the Heaven above un 
both X love you Lauha, I have never ceased to love you. 

Laura. I thank you. I know how to construe the love whicl* 
jrou deny in the face of society, to offer me behind its back. 

Ray. Will you drive me mad ! I tell you Laura, your misery, 
your solitude is as nothing to the anguish I have suffered. The 
maniac who in his mental darkness, stabs to the heart the friend 
he loved, never felt in returning reason the remorse my error has 
earned me. Every day it says to me : " You have been false to the 
heart that loved you, and you shall account for it to your conscience 
all your life. You shall find that the bitterest drops in the cup of 
sorrow, are the tears of the woman you have forsaken." And it is 
true. O, forgive me — have pity on me. 

Laura. (Moved.) I forgive you. Yes, and I pity you — and, so 
good-bye, forever. 

Ray. Of course, I am nothing to you now. That is some com 
fort to me. I have only to be sorry on my own account. But, I 
come to you on behalf of others. 

Laura. Whom 'i 

Ray. My mother and Pearl. They ask for you. For them I 
have sought you, to urge you to return to them. 

Laura. Dear little Pe.vrl. 

Ray. Yes, she has been quite ill. 

Laura. She has been ill ? 

Ray. Think of those two hearts which you have caused to suffer 
and do not drive me from you. It is not only wealth, luxury and 
refinement which you have surrendered — you have also cast away 
those greater riches : loving and devoted friends. But they shall 
persuade you themselves. Yes, I'll go and bring them to you, you 
cannot resist their entreaties. 

Laiira. No, no, they must not come hero. They must never 
know where I hide my shame, and you must never reveal it. 

Ray. I promise it, if you will go to them with me. Think, they 
will insist on coming unless you do. 

Laura. PoorPEARLl If I go with you, you promise not to de- 
tain me — to permit me to come back, and to trouble me and my 
poor life no more V 

Ray. I promise ; but I know you will release me from it when 
yoa see them. I will get a carriage. So that no one will meet you. 
Wait for me, I shall not be long. It is agreed ? 

Laura. {Smiling.) Yes, it is agreed. 

lE titer Peachblossom, D. f. with a sheet of paper, foolscap, nnd 
ioiie enwrnous envelopes. 

Peach, (l. h.) Here they are. 

Ray. C. That's a good girl, keep them till I co^ ne back. In hali 
an hour, LAur.A, be ready. [Exit D. F. 



22 VnSTDEK THE GaSLIGHT. 

Peach {With, an air.) What's he going to dc in half av hou. I 

Ldura. He's going to take me away with him for a littU whilo 
Blossom, and while I'm gone, I wish yon to be a good /f A, and 
watch the house, and take care of it till I return. 

Peach. I don't believe it. You won't return. {Crying.) That's 
what our Sal said when she went off with her young man , and she 
never came back at all. You shan't go ; I hate him. lit) shan't 
take you away. 

Laura. BLOSSOM ! {Who is getting ready, putting her'.\a.t on, dc) 

Peach. I don't care. If you go away, 1 11 go away ; I Jl bite and 
scratch him if he comes back. {Fiercely tearing iip the paper and 
envelopes.) Let him come back. Let him dare come ba ;k. 

Laura. Blossom, you're very wicked. Go into the corner this 
minute and put your apron over your head. 

Peach. {Crying at 'LwTB.K'^feet.) O, please. Miss Nik k, letm.ego 
with you, and I'll be so good and not say a word to any < ne. l)o let 
me go with you. Let me ask him to let me go with y» a. {Figure 
passes the itlndow.) Here he is ; I see him coming. 

Laura. Run! run! open the door, {'Pe.'^cb. runs to fJloor ; throws 
it open, disclosing Byke.) {Exclamation of horroi' froin LAUT.i.) 

Byke. {Advancing) Ah, my dear little runaway 1 Foviid you 
at last, — and just going out. How lucky ! I wanted /ou i.i take a 
walk with me. 

Laura. Instantly leave this place ! 

Byke. How singular ! you are always ordering me out^ md I am 
always coming in. We want a change. I will go ou , an i 1 request 
you to come with me. 

Laura. Blossom, go find an officer. Tell him th'a wretch is in- 
sulting me. 

Byke. Blossom? ah, — exactly! Here you, Jr D.'iS ! (Juda? 
appears at door, down l. h.) (Peach crosses to LAUiiA K.) 

Judas. O, Miss, save me ! 

Byke. {Throws Peach over to Judas, l.) Tala care of thai 
brat. And as for you, daughter, — come with me. 

Laura. Daughter 1 

Byke. Yes; it is time to declare myself. Pate real feeling hae 
been too long smothered in my breast. Come to my arms, my child, 
my long-estranged child ! {lakes out dirty JiandkercJ.ief and presses 
his eyes with pretended feeling.) 

Laura. God ! is there no help coming ? {She attempts to esea/pe. 
Byke seizes her.) 

Byke. What, unfilial girl ! You take advantage of a father's 
weakness, and try to bolt I {Clutching her by the arm.) Com**, go 
with me ; and cheer my old age. Aint I good, to tako you budi 
4f',er aU these years ? 

Pictcbe.— ^tcA; Curtain. 



ACT III. 

SCENE l.~The Tombs Police Court. Long high ded-, with ihrei 
seats, across tack from u. to l. on Platform. Railing 
in front. Railing around l, h. tcith opening c. In 
front of railing^ a bench R. and l. h. Gate in c. of 
railing. 

JiiDGE BowLiKC and another Justice seated hehind 
high desk, c. with clerk on his l. h. Justice is reading 
paper, icith his feel upon desk, K. n. Policeman at R. 
and L,,, 1, 2, E. Policeman 9-9-9 at gate, c. Hard- 
looking set of tneii and women on benches, ii. and L. 
Laicyer Splinter ic talking to Raffekdi, who is in 
crowd down n. 

(^As the cur'ain rises noisy bvsz is heard.) 

BoiD. Smithers, keep tliose people quiet. (9-9-9 handling people 
roughly.) Here — easy, oflBcer ; treat those poor people decently. 
Well, whom have you got there ? 

9-9-9. {Going to 1, e. l. h., and dragging urchin within railing.) 
Pickpocket, your Honor. Caught in the act. 

Bow. What's he got to say for himseltl' Nothing, eh ? What's 
his name? 

9-9-9. {Stooping doicn to hoy as if asking him-) Says his name is 
Peter Rich. 

Bote. You stand a poor chance, Rich ! Take him away. (Bow- 
ling consults with other Justice, as the boy is tuken off e. r. h.) 

Splinter. (To Rafferdi, whohashis monkey and organ.) So you 
want to get out, eh ? How much money have you got ? 

Raff'. Be jabers ! half a dollar in cents is all the money I'm worth 
In the world. 

Splin. Give it to me. I thought you organ fellows were Italians. 

Raff. Devil doubt it ! Aint I got a monkey ? 

9-9 9. Here, you ; come up here. {Takes Rafferdi inside the 
railing, L. h.) 

Bmo. Now, then ; what's this, oflGLcer ? 

9-9-9. (Rafferdi takes stand R.) Complaint of disturbing the 
neighborhood. 

Bow. What have you got to say for yourself? 

Splin. (r. h.) If your Honor please, I appear for this man. 

Bow. Well, what have you got to say for him ? 

Splin. Here is an unfortunate man, your Honor — a native of 
Sunny Italy. He came to our free and happy country, and being a 
votary of music, he bought an organ and a monkey, and tried to 
earn his bread. But the myrmidons of the law were upon him, and 
the Et;gle of Liberty drooped his pinions as Rafferdi was huriied 
to his dungeon 

(■2Z) 



84 FNDEE Tii^ GASLI.iCr. 

Bow. Raffeedi ! — You'i-e an Irishman, ain't you ? What do 
jrou mean by deceiving us ? 

Raf. Sure I didn't. It's the lawyer chap there. I paid him fifty 
."•ints and he's lying out the worth of it. 

Bow. You fellows are regular nuisances ! I've a great mind to 
eommit you. 

Spliri'. Commit him ! If the Court please -reflect — commit him 
—to prison— what will become of his monkey ? 

Bow Well, I'll commit him too. 

8plin. You cannot. I defy the Court to find anything in the 
Statutes authorizing the committal of the monkey. 

Bow. Well, we'll leave out the monkey. 

Splin. And if the Court please, what is tlie monkey to do in the 
wide world, with his natural protector in priron ? I appeal to those 
kindlier feelings in your honor's breast — which must ever t^mpei 
jusdce with mercy. This monkey is perhaps an orphan ! 

Bow. {Lav.ghing.) Take them both away, and don't let me 
catch you here again Mr. Rafferdi or you'U go to jail. 

[Exit Rafferdi 1 e. l. h. Splinter goes down, Raf. Exits. 

9-9-9. {Palling Sam who is drunk out of u crowd.) Get up here. 

Sam. {Noisily.) Look yah — don't pull mo around. 

Bow. Silence there ! what's all this noise about ? 

Sam. Whar's de Court ? I want to see 6.0 Judge. 

Siplin. {Approaching him.) My colored friend can I assist you ? 

8am. Am you a Counsellor-at-Law ? 

Splin. Yes, retain me ! How much money have you got ? 

Sam. I ain't got no money — but I've gut a policy ticket. It' 
bound to draw a prize. 

Splin. Got any pawn tickets ? 

Sam. Ob course. {Giving him a handful!) 

Bow. Well, what's the charge ? 

9-9-9. (r. h. c.) Drimk and disorderly. 

Bow. Well, my man, what have you to ?MY 1 

Sam. Dis here gemman represents me. 

Splin. We admit, if the Court please, thi,t we were slightly in- 
toxicated, but we claim the Drivilege, as tke equal of the whitt 
man. 

Bow. {To Clerk.) Very good I Commit liim for ten days." 

Splin. But this is an outrage, your honor. 

Bow. {To Officer.) Take him oflf ! {Motioning to Sam.) (Splin. 
TKR sits down discomfited, Sam very wroth.) 

Sa)?i. What ? 

Biw. Take him away. 

Sam. Look here, judge, hab you rtt&d the Civil Right Bi 1 ? You 
can't send dis nigger to prison whUe dat bill am de law of de land. 

Bow. That'll do — remove him. 

Sam. I ain't no gipsy, I'm one of de ITureau niggers, I am 1 
Where am do law ? Don't touch me^ white man ! Dis am corrup 
tion — dis am 'Qcial delinquency. 

9-9-9. {Collars him and carries him off.) 

Sam. Mr. Stevens 1 Thaddeus ! {E.nt R. H. 1 E. 

Boto. Any more prisoners? {Noise L. 1, IT^) What noise is that 

(Officer goes out. Byke enters, followed ly the officer icho escort 
Laura.) 

Byke. Where is the judge ? O, irhere is ihe good, kind judge 



HNDER TUE GASLIGHT. 26 

Bo7e>. Well, my dear sir, what is tlie matter? 

Byke. O, sir, foro;ive my tears. I'm a broken-lieartcd man I 

Bow. Be calm, my dear sir. Officer, briii<r this geutleiuan a 
chair. [Officer hands chair n. c. 

Byke. Ah, sir, you are very good to a poor distressed lathpr. 
whose existence has been made a desert on account of his child. 

Bow. Kepress your emotion, and tell me wliat you want. 

B/j\'e I want my child. 

Bow. VMiere is she ? 

By^e. She is here, sir — hero— my darling, my beautiful child, 
<iiad so uufilial — so i:nnatural. 

Bow. How is this, young lady ? 

Laura. {Staiidiny inside railing Ij. "B.) It is all a lie. He is not 
my father. 

Byke. Not your father ? Oh, dear, oh, dear, you will break my 
''^art. 

Bow. This needs some explanation. If not his child, who are you ? 

Laura. I am — I dare not say it. I know not who I am, but I 
eel that he cannot be my father. 

Byke. O, dear— 0— 

Bote. (Sharply.) Silence ! (To Laura, sternly.) You say you 
don't know who you are. Do you know this man ? 

Laura. Yes. 

Bote. Where, and with whom do you live ? 

Laura. I have lived alone for four months. 

Bow. And with whom did you live before that ? 

Laura. O, forgive me, it I seem disobedient — but I cannot 
tell. 

Bow. Then I must look to this gentleman for information. 

Byke. And I will gladly give it. Yes, sir, I will gladly tell. She 
was taken from me years ago, when she was but a little child, by 
rich people who wanted to adopt her. I refused — they paid me — I 
was poor — I was starving— I forebore to claim her — she was happy, 
but they turned her forth four months ago into the street. I could 
not see her siiflfer — my child — the prop of my declining days. I 
begged her to come — she refused. My enemies had poisoned my 
daughter's mind against 7nc, her father. I am still poor. I taught 
school, but I have saved a little money, only for her. 

Bow. How old is she ? 

Byke. Nineteen. 

Bow. (To Lauka.) Your father is your legal guardian during 
your minority, and is entitled to your custody. Why are you so ud- 
dutiful ? Try to correct this. 

Byke. Oh, bless you, dear, good judge for those words. 

Laura. 0, have I no friends, must I go with him ? 

Bow. Certainly. 

j'jaura. Anything then. Exposure ! Disgrace, rather than that 

\ Judges consult. Enter Snorkey l. goes opjwsite to Laura and 
signals her. 

Byke. (Aside.) Snorkey! the devil! 

Snorkey. (Crossing to Laura l. c.) Can I help you miss ? Only 
toll me what to do, and if it takes my other arm off, I'll save you. 

Laura. Yes, yes, you can help me I ( To Judge.) WLU you le) 
me send a message ? 

Bew. You may do that. 
3 



i?6 UKDEK TKE GASUGHT. 

Lav.ra. Run to tha\, house — not my house — but the one in w^utJ 
you saw me first. Do you remember it ? 

Snorkcy. Don't I, and tlie %vine and cakes. 

Laura. Ask for Miss Pearl. Tell her where I am. Tell her tf 
come instantly. (Snokket going.) Stay— tell her to bring tht 
ebony box in mother's cabinet. Can you recollect ? 

SnorJcey. Can I what ? Gaze at this giant intellect and don'l 
ask me ! The ebony box — all right — I'm oflF. 

{Exit L. 

Bow. It would have been as well, young lady, to have answered 
frankly at first. 

Byke. O, sir ! Don't be harsh with her ! Don't be harsh witl 
my poor child ! 

Bow. Your father has a most Christian disposition. 

Laura. Sir, I have told you, and I now solemnly repeat it, that 
this man is no relation of mine. I desire to remain unknown, for t 
am most unfortunate ; but the injustice you are about to commil 
forces me to reveal myself, though in doing so I shall increase a sor- 
row already hard to bear. (Splinter talks icith Laura aside.) 

Bow. We sit here to do right, according to the facts before us. 
And let me tell you, young lady, that your obstinate silence has 
more than con\'inced us that your father's statement is correct. 
Further, unless the witnesses you have sent for can directly contra- 
dict him, we shall not alter our decision. 

Laura. Let it be so. He says he gave me into the care of cei 
lain wealthy people when I was a little child. 

Byke. I am willing to swear to it. 

Laura. {SpIiINTEU watching effect of questio?i.) Then he will be 
able to describe the clothes in which I was dressed at the time. 
They were safely kept. I have sent for them. 

Byke. Let them be produced — and I will recognize every little 
precious garment. (Aside.) This is getting ferociously hot forme! 
Ha ! Re-enter Snokkey icith Ray hastily l. I e. 

Snorkey. {Excitedly) Here's a witness ! Here's evidence ! 

9-9-9 admonishes Jiim^ 

Laura. (Kay takes her hand through the rail.) Ray ? 

Bow. Who is this ? 

Ray. I am a friend, sir, of this lady. 

Byke. He is a dreadful character — a villain who wants to lead 
my child astray ! Don't — please don't let him contaminate her ! 

Bote. Silence! {To Ray.) Can you disprove that this young 
lady is his daughter. 

Ray. His daughter ? {Looks at Laura.) 

Laura. He knows nothing. 

Bow. Let him answer. Come — have you any knowledge of tMi 
aiatter ? 

Ray. I had been told, sir, that (Laura looks at him.) No 

—I know nothing. 

Laura Have you brought the ebony box ? It contained the 
clothes which I wore when 

Ray. I understand ; but in my haste, and not knowing your 
peril I brought nothing. But can ^ ou not remember them your- 
•elf? 

Laura. Perfectly. 

llfiy, "W>-ito. then! {Handing Mr a memorandum hook,) l^i 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 27 

Bow.) Sir, this lady will hand you a description of those articln* 
which she wore when she was found, thirteen years ago. Then let 
this scoundrel ])e questioned — and if he fail to answer, I w ill ac- 
cuse him of an attempted abduction. 

Bow. That's the way. 

Bykc. {Aside.) It will not be a great effort for me to remember. 

Boic. (Taking the hook from Ray.) Now, sir, I will listen to 
you. 

(Ray and Laiira are eager and expectant.) 

Byke. {Deliberately.) A soiled gingham frock, patched and 
torn. (Laura gives a shudder and turns aside.) 

Bow. What kind of shoes and stockings ? 

Byke. Her feet were bare. 

Bow. And the color of her hood ? 

Byke. Her dear little head was uncovered. 

Bow. (Handing book back.) He has answered correctly. 

Laura. It is useless to struggle more ! Heaven alone can help 
me! 

Bay. You can see, sir, that this lady cannot be his daughtei 
Look at her and at him ! 

Bow. I only see that he has pretty well proven his case. Sho 
must go with him, and let her learn to love him as a daughter 
should. 

Bay. She shall not ! I will follow him wherever he goes. 

Byke. {Taking Laura's hand.) I appeal to the Court. 

Bow. Officer, take charge of that person, until this gentleman is 
gone. 

Byke. (Coming forward with Laura who is dttmi and despairing.) 
My child, try and remember the words of the good judge. " You 
must learn to love me as a daughter should." (Leading her towards 
r. h.) 

Snorkey. (To Ray.) Stay here, sir, I'll track him. No one sus 
pects me 1 

[Mum; Tableau, — Scene closes in. 

Laura r. h. Byke r. c. Snorkey c. Ray l. h. 

SCENE II. — Exterior of the Tombs, with ballads on string$ 
Mpon the railings. Enter Jv^iKS followed ly Peach- 
blossom L. n. 1 E. 

Peach. Only tell me where he has taken her, and I'll go witb 
you — indeed I will. 

Judas. We don't want you, we wouldn't be bothered with you 
She's our game. 

Pearl. What are you going to do with her? 

Judas. Do ! why we'll coin her. Tui-n her into dollars. WoVa 
had it on foot for a long time. 

Peach. What ! Is she the rich young lady I heard you and Byrb 
Bpeak of so often before I got away from you ? 

Judas. (Savagch/.) Heard me speak of ! What did you hear ? 

Peach. (Da)ubig off.) O, I know ! I know more than you sup- 
pose. When you used to lock me up in the back cellar for runuin^ 
away, you forgot that doors had key-holes. 

Judas. (Aside.) This girl must be silenced. 



28 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

PeacA, W^ar are you muttering' about — don't you know Low 
Byke used to throw yo\i down and trample on you for muttering t 

Judas. I'll have you yet, my beauty. 

Peach. I think you ar? a great fool, Judas. 

Judas. Likely. Likely, 

Peach. W hy don't yo\i o^ive up Miss Nina to that handsome 
younjf gentleman V He'd pay you well for the secret. He'd gireSi 
his whole fortune for her, I know, I saw it in his face. And he'd 
treat you better than Byke does. 

Judas. Not yet my chicken ; besides, what does he care for her 
now? Isn't he going to marry the other girl — she's the one will 
pay when tlie time comes— but we intend to hold the goods 'till th«» 
price is high. 

PeaeJi. 'J'hen, if you won't, I'll tell all as I knows. I'll tell him 
all I used to overhear about babies and cradles, and he'll understand 
it perhaps, if I don't. 

Judas. (Aside.) Hang her — she'll make mischief. (Aloud.) Well, 
come along with me, my beauty, and I'll talk it over with y-ou. 

Peach. Don't touch me, I won't tru?t you with your hands on me. 
(Judas makes a dart at her.) I knew that was your game. But I'll 
lae even with you y^et. (Dancing off tantalizingly before Judas. Both 
exit K. H.) 

(Enter Snorkey r. 1 e.) 

Snorkey. (Despondent.) I'm no more use than a gun Avithout n 
trigger. I tried to follow Byke, but he smoked me in a minute. 
Then I tried to make up with him, but he swore that I went against 
him in Court, and so he wouldn't have me at no price. Then I ran 
after the carriage that he got into with the lady, till a damn'd old 
woman caught me for upsetting her apple stand and bursting up her 
business. What am I to do now ? I'm afraid to go back to the 
(■ap'n, Ae won't have me at any price either, I suppose. (Gating at 
b<iUads, hand in his pockets — going from one to the other. Enter 'Bkr- 
>1UDAS L. 1 E. tdtli ballads in his hands and preparing to take others off 
the line as if to shut up shop. 

Ber. (After gazing at Snorkey.) What are you a doing of^sa-a-y 1 
{Snorkey takes no notice.) This here's one of the^ fellow s as steals the 
bread of the poor man. Reading all the songs for nothin, and got 
bags of gold at home. Sa-a-y ! 

Snorkey. Well, youngster, what are you groaning about ? Have 
Tou got the cholera 1 

Ber. Ahl What are you doing t Taking the bloom off my songs '( 
Tou're read them 'ere ballads till they're in rags. 

Snorkey. I was looking for the" Prairie Bird." 

Ber. Perary Bird ! eh ? There aint no perary bird.. There's a 
"Perary Flower." 

Snorkey. Now don't go into convulsions. I'll find it. (Turns to 

9WK/S.) 

Ber. Sa-ay — you needn't look no further for \hat bird! I've 
found him, and no mistake. He's a big Shanghae vith a red coi»\h 
and no feathers. 

Snorkey. He's dropped on me. 

Ber. Ain't you a mean cuss, sa-ay 1 Why don't y lu come down 
with your two cents, and support trade ? 

Snorkey. But I ain't got two cents. What b a fello v to do if L« 
hasn't got a red 1 



UNDER THE. GASLIGHT. 29 

Ber. {Toning doim.) Haint you? Where's your messages ? 

Snorkey. Havn'i had one go to-day. 

Ber. Where do you haug out ? 

Snorkey. Nowheres. 

Ber. My eye — no roost ? 

Snorkey. >fo. 

Ber. i tell you what, come along with us — we're got a bully 
place — no rent — no taxes — no nothin. 

Si(orkt)/. Where is it ? 

Her. i)own under the pier! — I discovered it. I was in swimmin' 
and seed a hole and I went in. Lots of room, just the place for a 
quiet roost. We has jolly times every night I tell you on the 
dock ; and when it is time to turn in we goes below, and has it as 
snug as a hotel ; come down with us. 

Snorkel/, I will! These young rascals will help me track that 
Bcoimdrel yet. 

Ber. Now, help me to take in my show windows ; it's time to 
shut up shop. 

{Enter Ray Trafford, L.) 

Ray. If what {hat crazy girl has told me can be true, Laura 
may yet be restored to her friends if not to me, for I have dispelled 
that dream for ever. But that villain must be traced immediately, 
or he will convey his victim ftir beyond our reach or rescue. 

(Snorkey helping to take down songs, sees Trafford, icho has crossed 
to R. H.) 

Snorkel/. Hollo ! Cap'n ! 

Bay. The man of all I wanted. You tracked him ? 

Snorkey. They was too much for me, sir — two horses was — but 1 
saw them turn into Greenwich street, near Jay. 

Bay. This may give us a clue. I have learned from a girl who 
knows this fellow, that he has some hiding-place over the river, and 
owns a boat which is always fastened near the pier where the Bos- 
ton Steamers are. 

Snorkey. Well, Cap'n, if anything's to be done, you'll find me at 
Pier — what's the number of our pier, Shorty ? 

Ber. Pier 30 ! — Down stairs ! 

Snorkey. Pier 30. That's my new home, and if you want me, 
Bay the word. 

Bay. You will help me ? 

Snorkey. You bet, Cap'n. I was on Columbia's side for four jeara^ 
and I'll fight for her daughters for the rest of my life, if you eay <!c. 
If there's any fightin' count me in, Cap'n. 

Bau. Thank you, brarf'. fellow. Here take this — no nonsense- - 
take it. Pier 30 is it ? 

S7iorkey. Pier 30. {Exit TRAFFORD, R. 1 K.) 

Ber. {Eyeing money.) How much, PerARY ? 

Snorkey. One — two — three — four — four dollars. 

Ber. Four dollars ! Sa-ay — Don't you want to buy a share in a 
paying business? I'm looking out for a partner with a cash capital, 
for the ballad business. Or I tell you what to do. Lay your money 
on me in a mill. I'm going to be a prize fighter, and get reported 
in the respectable dailies. " Rattling Mill, 99th round, Bermudas 
the victor, having knocked his antagonist into nowheres." 

Snorkey. Come along, you young imp. I could floor you with 



so UNDER THE GASLIGHT 

mv own arm, and then the report would be : " 25th round— Shor. 
KEY came up first, while his antagonist showed great signs of dis- 
tress." 

£er. Say, Perary, what are you going to do with all that 
money ? 

SiiorJcey. I won't bet it on you, sure. 

Ber. I'll tell you what to do, let's go and board at the Metropo- 
litan Hotel for an hour. 

Snorkey. "What will we do for toothpicks ? 

Ber. Oh, go along. You can't get anything to eat for foo, 
dollars. 

{Exit Snorkey, Ber. squaring off l. 1. E. 



Sc;ENE lll.—Foot of Pier 30, North River. Sea cloth doim and 
worTcing — A pier projecting into the river. A large cav- 
ity in front. Bow of a vessel at hack, and other steamers^ 
vessels and piers in perspective on either side. The flat 
gives view of Jersey City and the river shipping by star- 
light. Music of distant serenade heard. 

Btke enters sculling a ioat, r. 2d e. and fastens his hont to the pier 
L. H. Old Judas is on the pier, smoking pipe, looTcing down. 

Judas. Have yoii fixed everything across the river ? 

Bfike. Yes, I have a horse and wagon waiting near the shore to 
carry her to the farm. Has any one been around here. 

Judas. Not a soul. I've been waiting here for an hour. What 
made you so long ? 

Byke. I pulled down the river for a spell to throw any spies oflf 
the track. It was necessary after what you told me of that girl's 
threat to blab about the Boston pier. 

Judas. Pshaw 1 she'd nev^er dare. 

Byke. Never mind, it's best to be certain. Is the prize safe ? 

Judas. Yes, she was worn out, and slept when I came away. 
How her blood tells — she wouldn't shed a tear. 

Byke. Bah ! if she'd been more of a woman and set up a scream- 
ing, we shouldn't have been able to get her at all. Success to all 
girls of spirit, say I. 

Judas. Don't you think it misht be worth while to treat with 
this young spark, Trapford, and hear what he has to offer ? 

Byke. Satan take him ! no. That'll spoil your game about the 
other girl. Pearl. He was making up to her all right, and if he 
gpsis this one back he'll upset the whole game by marrying her. I 
tell you he's got the old feeling for her, spite of her running away. 
Now you can judge for yourself, and do as you please. 

Judas. Then I do as you do-^get her out of the city. When 
Pearl is married to him we can treat for Laura's ransom, by 
threatening them with the real recret. 

£i/ke. Then that's settled. {Taking out f ask.) Here's the prec- 
ious infant's health. Do you think she'll go easy, or shall we drug 
her? 

Judm. Just tell her it's to meet her beau and get her ransom, oi 
give her a roa«oa and she'll be as mild as a lamb. 

Biike. Ha ! let me get hold of ber, and I'll answer she goea 



•nCOKR THE GASLIGHT. 3] 

across, -eskSQu .^ ac^ reason. (Bermudas calls outside L. w.) There's 
& floirie. 

Julias. It's only the market boys cominj? down for a swim. 

Bijke. Soitly then, come along. [_Music, hxeunt l. 

[h'nler Ber., PEANUTS, anda coupleoUur hoi/s, L. 

£cr. Say, JPeanuts, go down and see if any of the fellows ifl 
come yet. (Peanuts scrambles down to hole in front on side of dock ; 
comes out ayain.) 

feanuts. There's nobody there. 

i^iuorkeii. (without) Hollo ! 

Ber. Hollo I That's our new chum. Hollo I follow your front teeth, 
and you'll get here afore you knows it. 

\ Kilter Snorket ivith more boys, L. 

Snorkci/. What a very airy location. 

Ber. It's a very convenient hotel. Hot and cold saltwater baths 
at the very door of your bedrooms, and sometimes when the tide 
rises we has the bath brought to us in bed — doesn't we, Peanuts? 

/^eanuts. That's so. 

Snorkel/, Come, what do you do before you go to bed ? 

Ber. We has a swarry. Say, one of you fellows, go down and 
bring up the piany forty. (Peanuts goes into hole and gets banjo.) 
What'll I give you? 

iSuorkey. Something lively. {Music, and dince by boys, ensue, — 
given according to capacity and talent. At the end of it, a general shout 
of jubii'ee ; u'hen — 

Sergeant of Patrol. (Outside.) Here, boys ! less noise. 

Ber. It's Acton and the police. Let's go to bed. (Bkk. and bovs 
yet down into hole.) 

Sergeant. (B'nttring L. in patrol boat.) If you boys don't make less 
noise, I'll have to clear you out. 

Ber. {<))i the pier.) It's an extra occasion, Mr. Acton; — we're 
having a distinguished military guest, and we're entertaining him. 
(Boat passes out, K.) Come along, Perary, let's go to bed. (Snor- 
KEY ?'s about to descend.) 

(Enter Ray Trafford, L. on pier.) 

Bay. Is that you, Snorkey ? 

Stiorkcy. (Quickly whispering.) Here, sir. Anything turned up ? 

Bay. Byke was overheard to say he intended crossing the river 
to-night ; he will doubtless use that boat which he keeps by the 
Boston Pier. The river patrol are on the watch for him. But I 
will meet him before he can embark. 

Snorkey. Which Boston Pier is it, Cap'n ? there are three on this 
river. 

Nay. Three I 

Snorkeij. ies ; one of them is two slips below. I tell you what, 
Cap'u : You get the officers, go by the shore way, search all the 
slips ; I'll find a boat about here, and will drop down the river, and 
keep an eye around generally. 

Voice. ( Without, l. h.) This way, sir. 

Bay, That's the patrol calling me. Your idea is a STOod one. 
Keep a sharp eye down the stream. [Exit L. 

Snorkey. \^Aloiie.) Now for my lay. 

Ber. (Popping Ms head up.) Say, can't I do nothin ? I'm the 
Fifth-Ward Chicken, and if there's any muss, let me have a shy. 

Snorkey. No; ge^ in and keep quiet. (3e\\., disappears.) I won- 



52 TJNI^EE THE GASLIGHT. 

der where 1 rail find a boat. There ought to be p'.enty tied up 
about here. My eye ! {Discovering Byke's ) Here's one for the 
wishin'; sculls too. I'm in luck. Say, Bekmudii^ whose boat ia 
this? 

£er. Yours, if you like Tie it loose. 

{Jumps down, enters boat, pushes offtowards'R. 

Ber. {Inside.) Keep your toe out of my ear ! 

{Pause.) [Byke, Laxjra, anc? Jddas, e7iter on pia frori 1-. 

Lnnra. Is this the place ? There is no one here ; you have d& 
ceived me. 

Bi^he. Well, we have but we won't do so any longer. 

Laura. What do you mean ? 

Byke. {Drawiufi pi>stol.) Do you see this ? It is my dog" Trusty. 
It has a very loud voice and a sharp bite ; and if you scream out, 
I'll try if it can't outscream you. Judas, unfasten the boat. 

Laura. What are you about to do ? You will not murder me ? 

Bifke. No ; we only mean to take you to the other shore, where 
your friends won't think of finding you. Quick, JuDAS. 

Judas. The boat's gone. 

Jiijke. Damn you, what do you mean ? Where is it ? Here ; 
hjld her. (Judas r^^/^f/ies Laura.) Where the devil is that boat v 

Simrke!/. {R( -appearing in boat from R.) Here! 

Bi/ke. Snorkey! We're betrayed. Come. {Drags Laura to- 
wards L.) 

Snorkel/. The police are there ! Turn, you coward 1 Don't rim 
from a one-armed man ! 

Bpke. Judas, take her ! (Snorkey strikes at him with oar . Byke 
takes oar from him and strikes him ; he falls in boat. The boys hear 
the noist, and scramble up at back. The patrol boat appears at R., with 
lights.) 

Snorkey. Help ! Bermudas ! 

Ber. Hi! Ninety-ninth round! first blood for Bermudas 1 
{Jumps at Byke.) 

Byke. {Flinging Ber. off.) Judas, toss her over ! 

Judas throws Laura over back of pier. Ray enters L. Boys all get 
071 pier and surround Byke, fighting him. Officers enter at l Ray 
leaps into water after Laura.) 

Curtain. 
Moc}!r:iiGHT on dxtbing S^jkhb. 



ACT IV. 

No omrpet. 
SCEITE I. — Long Brancli Ground floor of an elegant renvjmnce— 
open wmdoiDS from floor to ceiling at haclc — -^/jenivg 
vpon a balcony or promenade. Persj^ectire of l%-o short 
and sea in distance. Doors R. and L. Sunscl 

As the curtain rises to lively music, from r. enter PEABt.. Mrs. 
Van Dam, Sue Earlie, and other ladies in summer coslur,i , De- 
milt a7id WiNDEL with them. 

Pearl. And so the distinguished foreigner is in love \vith n: / ? 1 
thought he looked excessively solemn at the hop last nij ht. Do 
you know, I can't imagine a more serious spectacle than a FreBch 
man or an Italian in love. One always imagines them to be sick. 
(7'o Mrs. V. D.) Do fasten my glove— there's a dear. 

Mrs. D. Where's Ray ? 

Pearl. 0, he's somewhere. I never saw such another. Isn'l lie 
cheerful ? He never smiles, and seldom talks. 

Mrs. V. D. But the foreigner does. What an ecstasy he was io 
over your singing ; sing us a verse, won't you, while vj< re waiting 
*br Ra,y V 

All. It will be delightful— do. 

Pearl. Well I [Sv^^g introduced. 

{Air ; When the War is Over, Mary.) 

I. 

Now the summer days are fading, 

Autumn sends its dreary blast 
Moaning through the silent forest 

Where the leaves are falling fast. . 
Soon dread winter will enfold us — 

Chilling in its arms of snow, 
Flowers that the summer cherished, 

Birds that sing, and streams that floi». 

II. 

Say, shall all things droop and wither, 
That are born this Summer day? 

Shall the happy love it brought us — 
Like the flowers fadeaway ? 

No ; be still thou flutt'ring bosom — 
Seasons change and years glide by, 

They may not harm what is immortal- 
Darling, — love shall never die ! 

Pearl. Now, I've sung that to Rat a dozen times, and he nevei 
leven said it was nice. He hasn't any soul for music ; 0, dear, wha , 
a creature ! 

Mrs. V. D. Yes, and what a victiir^ you will be with a husbanl 
who has $60,000 per annum income. 

2* (33) 



34 TKDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Pearl. That's some comfort, isn't it ? 

Ray. {Enters L. H. bowiiig In otherx.) Goinor out, PEARL? 

Pearl. Yes, we're off to Shrewsbury. Quite a party's g'oing— 
four carriages — and we mean to stay and ride home by moonlight. 

Rn\i. Couldn't you return a little earlier ? 

Mrs. V. D. Earlier! Pshaw! What's in you, Teafford. (77*« 
ladies and qents. go up.) 

Kny. (Pearl, c.) You know that Laura will be quite alone, 
and she is still suffering. 

Pearl. Well, she'll read and read, as she always did, and never 
miss me. 

Pay. But, at least, she ought to have some little attention. ' 

Pearl. Dear, dear, what an unreasonable fellow you are. Isn't 
she happy now — didn't you save her from drowning, and havn't I 
been as good to her as I can be — what more do you Avant ? 

Ray. I don't like to hear you talk so, Pearl, and remember 
what she and you were once. And you know that she was some- 
thing else once — something that you are now to me. And yet how 
cheerful, how gentle she is. She has lost everything and does not 
complain. 

Pearl. Well, what a sermon ! There, I know you're hurt and 
I'm a fool. But I can't help it. People say she's good-looking, but 
she's got no heart ! I'd give anything for one, but they aint ^ be 
bought. 

Ray. Well, don't moan about it, I didn't mean to reprove yon. 

Pearl. But you do reprove me. I'm sure I havn't been the cause 
of Laura's troubles. I didn't tell the big, ugly man to come and 
take her away, although I was once glad he did. 

Ray. Pearl ! 

Pearl. Because I thought I had gained you by it. (Ray hirm 
away.) But now I've got you, I don't seem to make you happy. 
But I might as well complain that you don't make me happy — but 
I don't complain, I am satisfied, and I want you to be satisfied. 
There, are you satisfied ? 

Afrs. V. J). ( Who with others has been promenading up and dotmi the 
balcony.) Here are the carriages. 

Pearl. I'm coming. Can't you get me my shawl, Ray. (Ray 
fftts it from chair.) 

Mrs. V. D, And here's your foreign admirer on horseback. 

(Sue EarlIE, DeMILT and WiNDEL, exit.) 

Pearl. ( Up stage c.) Bye, bye, Ray. {Exit.) 

Mrs. V. I), Are you not coming, Trafford ? 

Ray. I? No! 

J/>v' V D. Do come on horseback, here's a horse ready for you 

Pearl. {Without.) Ray! Ray 1 

Mrs. V. D. Pearl's calling you. Be quick or Count Cakom 
will be before you, and hand her in the carriage. 

Ray. {Taking his hat slowly.) O, by all means, let the Count have 
Bome amusement. 

J/n!, V. D. {Taking Ray's arm^ You're a perfect icicle. 

\They exit. 

[iVots<3 of whips and laughter. Plaintive music as Laura (ntert, 
L. goes to c. and gazes out at them.] 



TTNDEtl TUB GASLIGHT. 35 

Lanra. Poor Peabl. It is a sad thinjy to want for happiness 
Idit it is a terrible tliinji; to see anotlitT groping about blindly for it 
when it is almost within the grasp. And yet she can bo very 
liappy with him. Her sunny temper, and her joyous face will 
brighten any home. {Sits at table c, om whidi are books,) How 
liappy I feel to be alone wth these friends, who are ever ready to 
talk to me — with no longings for what I may not have — my exist- 
ence hidden from all, save two in the wide world, and making my 
joy out of the joy of that innocent child who will soon be his wife. 

(Peachblossom ajypears at hack loohing in cautiously, gro- 
tesquely attired. 

Peach. If you please. 

Laura. {Aloud.) Who is there? 

Peach. {Kxniibici in window F.) O, it's Miss NiNA ! 0, I'm BO 
glad ; I've had such a hunt for you. Don't ask me nothing yet. I'm 
so happy. I've been looking for you so long, and I've had such 
hard luck. Lord what a tramp — miles on miles. 

Laura. Did any one see you come here ? How did you find me 1 

Peach. I asked 'em at the hotel where Mr. Trafford was, and 
they said at Courtlands, and I asked 'em where Courtlands 
was, and they said down the shore, and I walked down lookin' at 
every place till I came here. 

Laura. Speak low, Blossom. My existence is a secret, and no 
^ne must hear you. 

Peach. Well, Misi, I says to Snorkey — says I — • 

Laura. Is he with you V 

Peach. No, Miss, but we are great friends. He wants me to 
keep house for him some day. I said to him — " I want to find out 
where Miss Nina's gone," and so he went to Mr. Trafford's and 
found he was come to Long Branch, but never a word could we 
hear of you. 

Laura. And the others — those dreadful people ? 

Peach. Byke and old Judas ? Clean gone ! They hasn't been 
seen since they was took up for throwing you into the water, and 
let off becaiise no one came to Court agin 'em. Bermudas says he's 
seen 'em in Barnum's wax-work show, but Bermudas is such a 
liar. He brought me up here. 

Laura. Brought you up here. 

Peach. Yes, he sells papers at Stetson'? ; he's got the exclusive 
trade here, and he has a little wagon and a horse, and goes down to 
the junction every night to catch the extras from the Exjjress train 
what don't come here. He says he'll give me lots of nice rides if 
I'll stay here. 

Laura. But you must not stay here. You must go back to New 
York this evening. 

Peach. Back ! No, I won't. 

Laura. Blossom ! 

Peach. I won't, I won't, I won't ! I'll nevei ^et you away again. 
I did it once and you was took away and dragged about and chucked 
overboard and almost drowned. I won't be any trouble, indeed I 
won't. I'll hire out at the hotel, and run over when my work is don© 
at night, when nobody can see me, to look up at your window. Don't 
Bcnd nie away. You're the only one as ever was good to me. 



36 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Laura. (Aside.) It's too dangerous. She certainly woa] i ^pvea] 
me soouer or later. I must send her back. 

Feacli. Besides, I've got something to tell you. Dreadful 1 dread- 
ful ! about old Judas and Byke — a secret. 

Lnura. A secret ! what in the world are you saying? 

Feach. Is it wicked to listen at doors when people talk ? 
• jMuva. It is very wicked. 

Peach. Well, I suppose that's why I did it. I used to listen to 
Byke and Jodas when they used to talk about a ricL. lady whore, 
they called Mrs. Courtland. 

Laura. Ah ! 

Peach. Judas used to be a nurse at Mrs. CotjrtlajWs, and waa 
turned oflF for stealing. And wasn't she and Byke gji'ag to make 
money off her! and Byke was to pretend to be somebj-Mitiful lady's 
father. Then, when they took you, Judas says to me : " Did you 
ever hear of children being changed in their cradles V" — and that you 
wasn't her child, but she was going to make money oflf the real one 
at the proper time. 

Ijaara. What do you tell me ? 

Peach. Oh! I'm not crazy. I know a heap, don't I? And J 
want you to think I'm somebody, and not send me away. 

Laura. (To herself.) She must speak the truth. And yet if I 
were to repeat her strange words here, I should be susi^ected of forg- 
ing some tale to abuse the ear of society. No ! better let it rest as 
it is. She must go — and I must go too. 

Peach. You ain't mad with me ? 

Laura. No, no ; but you must go away from here. Go back to the 
hotel to your friend — anywhere, and wait for me ; I will c tLc to you. 

Peach. Is it a promise ? 

Laura. (Nervously!) Yes, go. 

Peach. Then I'll go ; for I know you always keep your word — 
you ain't angry, cause I came after you? I did it because I loved 
you — because I wanted to see you put in the right place. Honor 
bright, you ain't sending me away now ? Well, I'll go ; good bye I 

[Exit c. 

Laura. (Animated.) I mxist return to the city, no matter what 
dangers may lurk there. It is dangerous enough to to concealed 
here, with a hundred Argus-eyed women about me every day, but 
with this girl, detection would be certain. I must go — secretly if 
I can — openly if I must. 

liai/. (Outside.) No, I shall not ride again. Put him up. (En- 
tering.) Lauka, I knew I should find you here. 

Laura. (Sitting and pretending composure.) I thought you had 
gone with Peakl ? 

Pa I/. I did go part of the way, but I left the party a mile dowii 
the road ? 

Laura. You and Pearl had no disagreement ? 

Ray. No — yes ; that is, we always have. Our s )cial barometers 
always stand at " cloudy " and " overcast." 

Laura. (Rising ) And whose fault is that ? 

Ray. (Pettishly.) Not mine. I know I do all I can — I say all I 
can — but she — (Crossing.) 

Laura. But she is to be your wife. Eay— my friend — courtship 
is the text from which the whole solemn sermon of married life takes 
its theme. Do not let y ours be discontented and unhappy. 



UNDER THE GAS7.IGHT. 37 

Eat/. To be my wife ; yes. In a moment of foolishness, dazaled 
/)y her airs, and teased by her coquettishness, I asked her to le my 
wife. 

Lavra. And you repent already? 

Ray {Taking ker hand.) I lost you, and I was at th'j mercy of 
aiiy flirt that cliote to fjis-e ine an inviting look. It was your fault 
- -you know it was ! Why did you leave me ? 

Laura. {After conflict with 7/ ei' feelings.) Ray, the f,freatest hap- 
piness I have ever felt, has been the thought that all your affections 
were forever bestowed upon a virtuous lady, your equal in family, 
fortune and accomplishmeHts. What a revelation do you nuike to 
me now ! What is it makes you continually war with your happi- 
ness ? 

Jiai/. I don't know what it is. I was wrong to accuse you. For- 
give me ! I have only my own cowardice to blame for my misery 
But Pearl 

La urn. You must not accuse her. 

Bay. When you were gone, she seemed to have no thought — no 
wsh — but for my happiness. She constantly invited me to her 
house, and when I tried to avoid her, met me at every turn. Was 
she altogether blameless ? 

Laura. Yes, it was her happiness she sought, and she had a right 
to seek it. 

jRr/y. Oh ! men are the veriest fools on earth ; a little attention, a 
little sympathy, and they are caught — caught by a thing without 
soul or brains, while some noble woman is forsaken and forgotten. 

Laura. (Ray throws himself into a seat.) Ray, will you hear me? 

liay. (Looking at her hopefully.) Yes, speak to me as you used 
to speak. Be to me as you used to be. 

Laura. {Smiling sadly) I cannot be that to you; but I can speak 
as the spirit of the Laura who is dead to you forever. 

Eay. Be it as you will. 

Laura. {Standing beside him) Let the woman you look upon be 
wise or vain, beaiitiful or homely, rich or poor, she has but one thing 
she can really give or refuse — her heart ! Her beauty, her wit, her 
accomplishments, she may sell to you — but her love is the treasure 
without money and without price. 

Bay. How well I have learned that. 

Laura. She only asks in return, that when you look upon her, 
your eyes shall speak a mute devotion ; that when you address her, 
your voice shall be gentle, loving and kind. That you shall not des- 
pise her because she cannot understand, all at once, your vigorous 
thoughts and ambitious designs : for when misfortune and evil 
have defeated your greatest purposes — her love remains to console 
you. You look to the trees for strength and grandeur — do not des 
pise the flowers, because their fragrance is all they have to give. 
Remember, — love is all a woman has to gi fe ; but it is the only 
earthly thing which God permits us to carry beycnd the grave. 

Bay. {Eising.) You are right. You are always right. I asked 
Pearl to be my wife, knowing what she was, aiui I will be just to 
her. I will do my duty though it break my heart. 

Laura. Spoken like a hero. 

Rail. But it is to you I owe the new light that guides me ; and 
I will tell her — 

Laura. Tell her nothing — never speak of me. And when you 



38 UXDER THE GASLIGHT. 

see Iier, say to lier it is she, and she alone, whom you consult and 
to whom you hsten. 

Ray. And you — 

Laura. You will see me no more. 

Jiay. You will leave me ? 

Lanra. Something of me will always be with you — my parting 
words — my prayers for your happiness. (Distant miisic heard.) 

Ray. {Falling on Jiis haees.) O, Laura, you leave me to despair. 

Laura, (c.) No ; to the happiness which follows duty well per- 
formed. Such happiness as I feel in doing mine. 

Picture. 

Scene closes in. During last of this scene the sun has set, and 
night come on. Stage darlc. 

SCENE II. — Woods near Shrewsbury Station. 
{Enter Byke shabbily dressed, l. 1 e.) 

ByTce. It's getting darker and darker, and I'm like to lose my 
way. Where the devil is Judas ? It must be nine o'clock, and she 
was to be at the bend with the wagon half an hour ago. {Bumble 
of wheels heard.) Humph — at last. 

Judas. {Ente^'ing l.) Is that you Byke ? 

Byke. Who did you suppose it was ? I've been tramping about 
the wet grass for an hour. 

Judas. It was a hard job to get the horse and wagon. 

Byke. Give me a match. {Liyhts pipe and leans against a tree.) 
Did you get the bearings of the crib ? 

Judas. Yes, it is on the shore, well away from the other cottnges 
and hotels. 

Byke. That's good. Nothing like peace and quietness. Who's 
in the house ? 

Judas. Only ibe two girls and the servants. 

Byke. How many of them ? 

Judas. Four. 

Byke. It'll be mere child's play to go through that house 
Have you spied about the swag ? 

Judas. They have all their diamonds and jewels there ; Pearl 
wears them constantly ; they're the talk of the whole place. 

Byke. We'll live in luxury off that girl all our lives. She'll settle 
a handsome thing on us, won't she V when she knows what we 
know, and pays us to keep dark ; — if t'other one don't spoil the 
game. 

Judas. Curse her ! I could cut her throat. 

Bifke. O, I'll lake care of that ! 

Judas. You always do things for the best, dear old Byke ! 

Byke. Of coiT-se I do. What time is it ? 

Judas. Not ten yet. 

Byke. An hour to wait. 

Judas. But, BvKE, you won't peach on me before my little pet 
is married, will you ? 

Byke. What's the fool about now ? 

Jvdas. I can't help trembling ; nothing is safe w bile Laura ia 
tliere. 



tJNDEK THE GASLIGHT. 39 

Bijke. IVo proviikd for that. I've bad the same icioa as you — ^ 
wliile slie's in the way, and Trafford unmarried, ouri)laiis an; all 
wnoke, and we might as well be sitting on the hob with a keg of 
powder in the coals. 

Judas. That we might. But -what have you thought to do ? 

Byke. Why, I've thought what an unfortunate creature Laura 
is, — robbed of her mother, her home, and her lover ; nothing to 
live for ; it would be a mercy to put her out of the way. 

Judas. That's it ; but how — how — how — 

Byke. It's plain she wasn't born to be drowned, or the materials 
are very handy down here. What made you talk about cutting 
her throat ? It was very wrong ! When 'a thing gets into my 
bead, it sticks there. 

Judas. You ouglitn't to mind me. 

Byke. Make your mind easy on that score. 

Judas. (Alarmed.) Byke, I beard some one in the bushes j ust 
there. {Points off n.) 

Byke. (Nervously and quickly.) Wlio? W^here? (Going n.) 

Judas. Where the hedge is broken. I could swear I saw the 
Bbadow of a man. 

Byke. Stop here. I'll see. [0# R. 

Judas. (Solus.) I begin to shiver. But it must be done or we 
starve. Why sliould I tremble ? it's the safest job we ever planned. 
If they discover us, our secret will save us ; — we know too much 
to be sent to jail. 

(Re-enter Byke, slowly.) 

Byke. Ther are traces, but I can see no one. (Looking offn.) 

Judas. Suppose we should have been overhearu! 

Byke. (Glaring at her.) Overheard? Bah! no one could 
understand. 

Judas. Come, let us go to the wagon and be off. 

Byke. (Always looking off' R.) Go you, I will follow. Bring it 
round by the station, and wait for me in the shadows of the trees. 
I will follow. (Judas goes off' L. Byke, after a moment, — still look- 
ing R., — buttons up his coat and hides behind wood, R. h.) Heigho I 
I must be off. 

(Enter Snorkey, slotoly, R.) 

Snorkey. Tracked 'em again ! We're the latest fashionable arri- 
vals at Long-Branch. " Mr. Byke and Lady, and Brigadier-General 
Snorkey, of New- York ;" — there's and item for the papers ! With a 
horse and wagon, they'll be at the seaside in two hours ; but in the 
train I think I'll beat 'em. Then to find Cap'n Trafford, and give 
bim the wink, and be ready to receive the distinguished visitors 
with all the honors. Robbery ; Burglary ; Murder ; — that's Byke's 
catechism : — " What's to be done when you're hard up ? Steal ! 
What's to be done if you're caught at it? Kill !" It's short and 
easy, and he lives up to it like a good many Christians don't live up 
to their laws. (Looking off\s.) They're out of sight. Phew! it's 
midsummer, but I'm chilled to the bone ; something like a piece of 
ice has been stuck between my shotilders all day, and something like 
a black mist is always before me. (Byke is behind tree.) Just like 
old Nettly told me he felt, the night before Fredericksburg ; — and 
next day he was past all feeling, — hit with a shell, and knocl ed into 
BO many pieces, I didn't know which to call ray old friend. Well, 



40 UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 

[j<lapping hh eJiesf,) we've all got to go ; and if I can save them, Vh 
have some little capital to start the next world on. The next world i 
perhaps I shan'^t be the maimed beggar tJiere that I an> in this. 
( 7'akes out pistol, examines cap ; goes off L., Btke glidbig after /tint.) 

SCE"NE III. — Railroad Station at Shreiosbury Bend. Up R. t^)e 
Station shed R. h. Platform arouitd it, and door 
at side, wiudoio in front. At L. l. e, clump of 
shrubs and tree. The Railroad irach runs from 
L. 4 E. to R. 4- E. View of ShrewsJtury River in. 
perspective. Night. Moonlight. The switch, with 
a red lantern and Signal man^s coat hanging 07i 
it ifc c. The Signal lamp and post beside it. 

As the scene opens, several packages are lying about the Stage., 
among them a bundle of axes. The Signal man is wheeling in a 
spiaU barrel from T,. whistling at his worTc, Enter Laura in, 
walling dress, coming feebly from l. u. e. 

Laura. It is impossible for me to go further. A second time I've 
fled from home and friends, but now they will never find me. The 
trains must all have passed, and there are no conveyances till to- 
morrow. (<S7/e sits at eltimp L. U. E.) 

Signal. Beg pardon, ma'am, looking for anybody ? 

Laura. Thank you, no. Are you the man in charge of this sta. 
tion? 

Signal. Yes, ma'am. 

Laura. When is there another train for New York ? 

Signal. New York ? Not till morning. We've only one more 
train to-night ; that's the down one ; it'll be here in about twenty 
minutes — " Express Train." 

Laura. What place is that ? 

Signal. That? That's the signal station shed. It serves for 
Btore-room, depot, baggage-room, and everything. 

Laura. Can I stay there to-night ? 

Signal. There ? Well it's an odd place, and I should tliink you 
would hardly like it. Why don't you go to the hotel ? 

Laura. I have my reascms — urgent ones. It is not because I want 
money. You shall have this {producing portmonnaie) if you let me 
remain here. 

Signal. Well, I've locked iip a good many things in there over 
night, but I never had a yoimg lady for freight before. Besides, 
ma'm, I don't know anything about you. You know it's odd that 
you won't go to a decent hotel, and plenty of money in your pocket. 

Laura. You refuse me— well — I shall only have to sit herj a.l 
night. 

Signal. Here, in the open air ? Why, it would kill you. 

Laura. So much the better. 

Signal. Excuse me for questions. Miss, but you're a running 
away from some one, ain't you V 

Laura. Yes. 

Signal. Well, I'd like to help you. I'm a plain man you know, 
and I'd like to help you, but there's one thing would go agin' me to 
asBist in. (Laura interested.) I'm on to fifty years of age, and I've 



UNDEPv THE GASLIGHT. 41 

muiiy children, some on 'em daughters grown. There's a laany 
t..niptations for young gals, and sometimes the old man has to jjut 
on the brakes a bit, for some young men are wicked enough to per- 
suade the gals to steal out of their father's house in the dead of 
niglit, and go to shame and misery. So tell me this — it ain't the 
old man, and the old man's home you've left, young lady 'I 

Laura. No ; you good, honest fellow — no — I have no fathei. 

Signal, Then, by Jerusalem ! I'll do for you what I can. Any- 
thing but run away from them that have not their interest but 
yours at heart. Come, you may stay there, but I'll have to lock 
you in. 

Laura. I desire that you should. 

Signal. It's for your safety as much as mine. I've got a patent 
lock on that door that would give a skeleton key the rheumatism to 
fool with it. You don't mind the baggage. I'll have to pitt it in 
with you, hoes, shovels, mowing machines, and what is this — axes. 
Yes, a bundle of axes. If the Superintendent finds me out, I'll ask 
him if he was afraid you'd run off with these. (Laughs.) So, if you 
please, I'll first tumble 'em in. (Puts goods in house, Laura sitting 
on platform r. h. looking at him When all in, he comes toicards her, 
taking iq} cheese-hox to put it in Station.) I say, Miss, I ain't curious 
— but, of course, it's a young man you're a going to ? 

Laura. So far from that, it's a young man I'm running away from. 

Signal. (DrojJinng box.) Rimning away from a young man ! Let 
me shake laauds with you. (Shakes her hand.) Lord, it does my 
heart good ! At your age, too ! (SerUnisly.) I wish you'd come 
and live down in my neighborhood a while, among my gals. (Shak- 
ing his head.) You'd do a power of good. (Putting box in station.) 

Lt.nrn. I've met an excellent friend. And here at least I can bo 
concealed until to-morrow — then for New York. My heart feels 
lighter already — it's a good omen. 

Signal. Now, Miss, bless your heart, here's your hotel ready. 

(Goes to suiteh a?id takes coat off, putting it on.) 

Laura. Thanks, my good friend ; but not a word to any one — till 
to-morrow ; not even — not even to your girls. 

Signal. Not a word, I promise you. If I told my girls, it would be 
over the whole village before morning. (She goes in. He locks door . 
Laura appears at windoio facing audience) 

Laura. Lock me in safely. 

Signal. Ah! be sure I will. There I (Tries door.) Safe as a 
jail. (Pulls out imtch, and then looking at track vnth lantern.) Ten 
minutes and down she comes. It's all safe this way, my noisy beauty, 
and you may come as soon as you like. Good night. Miss ! 

iMura. (At icindow.) Good night. 

Signal. Running away from young man, Ha ! ha! ha ! 

(lie goes to track, then looks down k. — lights Ms pipe and is trudg- 
if>g off K., when enter Snojikey fro7n L. u. e. 

Snorkey. Ten minutes before the train comes. I'll wait here foi 
it, (To Signal man tcho re-enters.) Hollo, I say, the train won't 
Btop hero too loug will it. 

Signal. Too long'? It won't stop here at all. 

Snork-y. I must reach the shore to-night. There'll be murder 
done, unless I can prevent it 1 

Sign d. Murder, or no murder, the train can't be stopped. 



4S UmDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Snorkey. It's % lie. By waving the red signal for danger, tho 

engineer must stop, I tell you ! 

Signal. Do you think I'm a fool ! What ! disobey orders and 
lose my place ; then what's to become of my family ? {Exit R. U. E. 

Snorkey. I won't be foiled. I will confiscate some farmer's horse 
about here, and get there before them somehow. (Byke enters at 
lack with loose coil of rope in his hand.) Then when Byke an ives in 
his donkey cart he'll be ready to sit for a picture of surprise. (Byks 
enters l. u. e. suddenly throwing the coil over Snorkey.) 

Byke. Will he ? 

Snorkey. Byke ! 

Buke. Yes, Byke. Where's that pistol of yours ? {Tightening 
rope round his arm.) 

Snorkey. In my breast pocket. 

Byke. {Taking it.) Just what I wanted. 

Snorkey. You ain't a going to shoot me ? 

Byke. No ! 

Snorkey. Well, I'm obliged to you for that. 

Byke. {Leading him to platform.) Just sit down a minute, will 
you. 

Snorkey. What for? {hAVRA appears hor-ror struck at window.) 

Byke. You'll see. 

Snorkey. Well, I don't mind if I do take a seat. {Sits doicn. 
B^-ke coils the rope round his legs.) Hollo ! what's this ? 

Byke. You'll see. {Picks the helpless Snorkey up.) 

Snorkey. Byke, what are you going to do ! 

Byke. Put you to bed. {Lays him across the R. B. track) 

Snorkey. Byke, you don't mean to — My God, you are a villain ! 

Byke. {Fastening him to rails.) I'm going to put you to bed. 
You won't toss much. In less than ten minutes you'll be sound 
asleep. There, how do you like it ? You'll get down to the Branch 
before me, wUl you ? You dog me and play the eavesdropper, eh 1 
Now do it if you can. When you hear the thunder under your head 
hnd see the lights dancing in your eyes, and feel the iron wheels a 
foot from your neck, remember Byke ! {Exit L. H. E. 

Jjaura. O, Heavens ! he will be murdered before my eyes I How 
can I aid him ? 

Snorkey. Who's that ? 

Laura. It is I. Do you not know my voice ? 

Snorkey. That I do ; but I almost thought I was dead, and it 
was an angel's. Where are you ? 

Jjaura. In the station. 

Svorkey. I can't see you, but I can hear you. Listen to me, Misa, 
for I've got only a few minutes to live. 

Laura. {Shaking door.) God help me ? and I cannot aid you. 

Snorkey. Never mind me. Miss. I might as well die now, and 
here, as at any other time. I'm not afraid. I've seen death in al- 
most every shape, and none of them scare me ; but, for the sake of 
those you love, I would live. Do you hear me ? 

Laura. Yes ! yes ! 

Snorkey. They are on the way to your cottage — Byke and Ju- 
1>AS — to rob and murder 

Laura. (In agony.) 0, 1 must get out 1 (Shakes window bar*.) 
Whatshallldo? -" ^ ^ ' 

Snorkey. Can't you bvrst the door? 



uihder the gasligett. 43 

Laura. It is locked fast. 

Snm'key. Is there nothing in there ? — no hammer ?- -no trow bat 1 

Laura. Nothing ! {Fdint steam irltistle heard in the diMance.) O, 
neavens! The train ! (Parol j/sed for an instant.) The axe ! 1 • 

iinorkey. Cut the woodwork ! Don't mind the lock — cut round 
it ! How my neck tingles ! (j1 hlmn at door is heard.) Courage ! 
(Another.) Courage ! (The stenin whistle heard again — nearer, 
and rumble of train on trael: Another Mow.) That's a true wo 
man 5 Courage! {Koise of locomotive heard — with whistle. A 
last hlvw; the door sicings ojien., imitilated — the loch hanging — 
and Laxtra appears, axe in hand.) 

Snorkey. Here — quick ! (She runs and unfastens him. The 
locomotive lights glare on scene.) Victory I Saved! Hooray! 
(Laura lenns exhausted against sicitch.) And these are the wo- 
men who ain't to have a vote ! 

{As Lauaa takes his head from the tracTc, the train of can Tutihei 
past with -inur and whistle from L, to E. H. 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. — An elegant ioiidoir at Couiitland's cotta»;e, Long 
Branch; open windoio and Ixilcony nt back ; moaii- 
light exterior; tree overhanging baf^ony. 

Bed is at v. e. l. ; toilette table k. / arm chair c. ; 
door L. 2 E. / lighted lamp on toilette table ; dresses 
on chair by bed l. h. and by window on R. (Music.) 

Pearl is discovered {en negligee) brushing her hair out at table 
he/ore mirror. 

Pearl. I don't feel a bit sleepy. Wliat a splendid drive we liad I 
I like that foreigner. What an elegant fellow he is ! Ray is noth- 
ing to him. I wonder if I'm in love with him. Pshaw ! What an 
idea ! I don't believe I could love anybody much. How sweetly he 
writes ! — (picks np letter and sits on chair c.) " You were more lovely 
than ever to-night ; with one more thing, you'd bean angel !" Now, 
that's perfectly splendid : " with one more thing, you'd be an angel 
— that one thing is love. They tell me Mr. Trafford is your pro- 
fessed admirer. I'm sure he could never be called your lovei — for 
he seems incapable of any passion but Melancholy." It's quite true. 
Ray does not comprehend me. (lakes vp another letter.) '■ Pearl, 
forgive me if I have been cross and cold. For the future, I will do 
my duty, as your affianced husband, better." Noav, did ever anyone 
hear such talk as that from a lover ? Lover ! — 0, ds&r ! I begin to 
feel that he can love, but not me. Well, I'd just as soon break — if 
he'd be the first to speak. How nice and fresh the all is I— (she turns 
down lamp.) It's much nicer here, than going to bed. {Settles her- 
self in tete-a-tete for a nap. Pause.) 



{Moonheams fall on Byke, who ap)pears dbou ihc balcony. He gets 
over the rail and enters. 

Byke. Safely down ! I've made no mistake-no, this is her room. 
What a figure I am for a lady's chamber. (Goes to table, picks up 
delicate lace handkerchief , and idpes his fare.) Phew! Hot! (Puts 
Jiandkerchief in his pocket ) Now for my bearings. (Taking huge 
clasp-knife from his pocket.) There's the bed where she's sleeping like 
a precious infant, and here — (Sees Pearl in. chair and steeds round 
at back, looking down at her.) It's so dark — I can't recognize the 
face. It's a wonder she don't feel me in the air and dream of mc. 
If she does she'll wake sure— but it's easy to settle that. (Takes 
phial of chloroform from hispocket, saturates the Jiandkerchief he picked 
np, and applies it.) So ! — now my charmer — we'll have the ear-rings. 
[Tak'.'i thetn out.) What's here (Going to table.) Bracelets— dia- 
inondrs ! (Going to dresses, and feeling in the pockets.) Money 1 That's 
liaudy. (He puts edl in a bag, and Iiands tliern ocer balcony.) Nov 
(44) 



FNDEU TUE GASl - -, 45 

for the drawers, there's where the treasare must be. Ljcked? 
(I'ries them with b inch of keys ) Patent lock, of course ! It amusea 
me to see people baying patent locks, when there's one key will fit 
'em all. (Produces small croirhetr, and just as he is ((bout to force the 
drawer, a shout is heard, and noise of wagon.) What's ihat ? {Jumps, 
catching at bureau, which falls oner.) Damnation ! 
Pearl. [Starting up.) Who's there '? What's that ? 

Byke. Silence, or I'll kill you ! 

Pearl. Help! Helpl 

Byke. {Running to bureau for knife) You will have it my pretty 
one. (Peakl runs to door l.) 

Pearl. Save me ! Save me ! (Byke pursues her, the door bursts 
open and Ray and Laura enter. Byke turns and runs to balcony, 
and confronts Snorkey and Bermudas, w/io have clambered ooer.) 

Laura. Jusi in time. 

Bay. {Seizing Byke.) Scoundrel ! 

Snorkey. Hold him. Governor ! Hold him. {Assists Ray to hind 
Byke in chair R. n.) 

Ber. Sixty-sixth and last round. The big 'un floored, and Bkr- 
MUDAS as fresh as a daisy. 

Pearl. Dear, dear Laura, you have saved me. 

Rmi. Yes, Pearl ; from more than you can tell. 

Laura. No, no, her saviors are there. {Pointing to Ber. and 
Snor.) Had it not been for the one, I should never have learned 
your danger, and but for the other, we could never have reached 
you in time. 

Snorkey. Berimttdas and his fourth editions did it. Business 
enterprise and Bermudas' pony express worked the oracle this time. 

Ber. The way we galloped ! Sa-ay, my pony must have thought 
the extras was full of lively intelligence 

Pearl. Darling Laura, you shall never leave us again. 

Ray. No ! never. 

Snorkey. Beg pardon, Cap'n, what are we to do with tliis here 
game we've brought down ? 

Ray. The Magistrates will settle with him. 

Snorkey Come, old fellow ! 

Byke. One word, I beg. My conduct, I know, has been highly 
reprehensible. I have acted inj udiciously, and have been the occa- 
sion of more or less inconvenience to every one here. But I wish 
to make amends, and therefore I tender you all in this public man- 
ner my sincere apologies. I trust this will be entirely satisfactory, 

Rny. Villain ! 

Byke. I have a word to say to you, sir. 

Snorkey. Come, that's enough. 

Byke. My good fellow, don't interru^^t gentlemen wlio are coii' 
versing together. {I'o Ray.) I address you, sir — you design to 
commit me to the care of the oflBcers of the law ? 

Ray. Most certainly. 

Byke. And you will do your best towards having me incarcera- 
ted in the correctional establishmei ts of this country ? (Ray bows.) 

Snorkey. How very gent^l ! 

Byke. Then I have to say if you will, I shall make a public ex- 
posure of certain matters connected with a certain yoang lady. 

Laura. Do not think that will deter us from your punishment 
I can bear even more than I have — for the sake of justice. 



46 rXDER THE GASLIGHT. 

Bylce. Excuse je, but I did not even remotely refer to you. 

Latira. To whom, then 1 

By he. {Pointing to Pearl.) To her. 

Ray. Miss Courtland ? 

Byke. O, dear ! no, sir. The daughter of old Judas — the spviri- 
ous child placed myoiir cradle, Miss Laura Courtland, when you 
were abducted from it "jy your nurse. 

Pearl. What does he say ? 

Byke. That you're a beggar's child — we have the proofs ! Db> 
liver me to prison, and I produce them. 

Bay. Wretch ! 

Pearl. Then it's you, dear Laura, have been wronged — while 



Laura, You arc my sister still — whatever befalls ! 

Pearl. Oh, I'm so glad it's so 1 Ray won't want to mai ry mc, 
now — at least, I hope so ; fori know he loves you — he always loved 
you — and you will be happy together. 

Bay. Pearl, what are you saying ? 

Pearl. Don't interrupt me ! I mean every word of it. Laura, 
I've been very foolish, I know. I ought to have tried to reunite 
you — but there is time. 

Rail. Dear Laura ! Is there, indeed, stiU time ? {She givex her 
hand.) 

Byke. Allow me to suggest that a certain proposition I had the 
honor to submit has not yet been answered. 

Kay. Release him. (Snorkey undoes Ms cords.) 

Byke. Thank you — not so rough ! Thank you. 

Bay. Now,, go — but remember, if you ever return ti tbese partr 
you shall be tried, not only for this burglary, but tor ti.e attempt 
to kill that poor Tellow. 

Byke. Thank you. Good-bye. {To Snorkey.) Go.^dby^ my 
dear friend ; overlook our little dispute, and write to me. (J..nJ«.^ 
They haven't caught Judas, and she shall make them pay hsvnd 
Bomely for her silence, yet. 

{Enter Peach, l. 1 e. 

Peach. Mipg ! 0, such an accident — old Judas I 

Laura and Byke. Well ? 

Peach. She was driving along the road away from here — just 
now, when her horse dashed close to the cliff and tumbled her 
down all of a heap. They've picked her up, and they tell me she 
13 stone dead. 

Byke. {Aside.) Dead I And carried her secret with her 1 All's 
up. I'll have to emigrate. {Alorid.) My friends, pardon my 
emotion — this melancholy event has made me & widower. I solicit 
your sympathies in my bereavement. \^JExit L. 

Ber. Go to Hoboken and climb a tree ! I guess I'll follow him 
and see he don't pick up anything on his way out. 

[Exit Ber. l. e. 

Snorkey. Well there goes a pretty monument of grief. Ain't he a 
cool 'un ? If I ever sets up an ice cream saloon, I'll have him for 
head freezer. 

Peach. O, Miss Laura, mayn't I live with you now, and never 
leave no more. 

Lama. Yes, you shall live with me as long aayou please. 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 47 

Snorkey. That won't be lon^ if I can help it. (PeaciI Uushrs.) 
I^eg pardon. I suppose we'd better be going! The ladies mu^l be 
tired Cap'n at this time of night. 

Ray. Yes, it is night ! It is night always for me. {Mo'/ifl^ to. 
icards door l.) 

Laura. {Placing one hand on Ms alioxdder, taking his h*/i2') Eat 
(here is a to-morrow. You see it cannot be dark forever. 

Pearl. Hope for to morrow, Ray. 

Laura. We shall have cause to bless it, for it wiil bri/ig ♦.>• 
<ng sought sunlight of our lives. 

Curtain. 



tt Skobkey. Lavba. Ray. Pkarl. Pkachblos>wii. L. B 



UNDER THE GASLIGHT, 

A TOTALLY ORIGINAL AND PICTURESQUE 

DRAMA 

OF 

LIFE MD LOVE IN THESE TIMES, 

IN FIVE ACTS, 

BY AUGUSTIN DALY. 



AUTHOR OF 



Leah, the Forsaken," *' Griffith Gaunt," Etc., Etc. 



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